A  TALE  OF 

THE  FIRST  CRUSADE 


AJiY  BOOK  PUBLISH!:!!. 


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"GOD   WILLS   IT! 


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"IN   A    TWINKLING    RICHARD    WAS   AT    THE    HEAD    OF   THE    RAGING    BRUTE" 


"GOD     WILLS     IT!" 


A  Tale,  of  the  First  Crusade 


BY 

WILLIAM    STEARNS    DAVIS 

AUTHOR  QF  "A  FRIEND  OF  C^SAR  " 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS   BY   LOUIS   BETTS 


"Who  through  faith  subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  righteousness, 
obtained  promises,  stopped  the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the 
violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of  weakness 
were  made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight,  turned  to  flight  the 
armies  of  the  aliens." 

—  HEBREWS  xi.  33,  34. 


If  orfc 
THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

LONDON:   MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
IQOI 

Alt  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1901, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Norwood  Press 

J.  5.  Gushing  fef  Co.  —  Berwick  £f  Smith 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


2T0  mg  Umg'time 
ARTHUR    WASHBURN 

I   DEDICATE  THIS   TALE 
OF   THE   DAYS    OF   FAITH 


2129336 


PREFACE 

THE  First  Crusade  was  the  sacrifice  of  France  for  the 
sins  of  the  Dark  Ages.  Alone  of  all  the  Crusades  it 
succeeded,  despite  its  surrender  of  countless  lives.  No 
Richard  of  England,  no  St.  Louis  led ;  its  heroes  were  the 
nobles  and  peasants  of  France  and  Norman  Italy,  who 
endured  a  thousand  perils  and  hewed  their  victorious  way 
to  Jerusalem.  In  this  Crusade  united  Feudalism  and 
Papacy  won  their  greatest  triumph.  Notwithstanding  the 
self-seeking  of  a  few,  the  mass  of  the  Crusaders  were  true 
to  their  profession,  —  they  sought  no  worldly  gain,  but  to 
wash  out  their  sins  in  infidel  blood.  In  this  Crusade  also 
the  alien  civilizations  of  Christendom  and  Islam  were 
brought  into  a  dramatic  collision  which  has  few  historic 
counterparts. 

Except  in  Scott's  "Count  Robert  of  Paris,"  which  deals 
wholly  with  the  Constantinople  episode,  I  believe  the  First 
Crusade  has  not  been  interpreted  in  fiction.  Possibly, 
therefore,  the  present  book  may  have  a  slight  value,  as 
seeking  to  tell  the  story  of  the  greatest  event  of  a  great 
age. 

I  have  sometimes  used  modern  spellings  instead  of  un- 
familiar eleventh-century  names.  The  Crusade  chronicles 


viii  PREFACE 

often  contradict  one  another,  and  once  or  twice  I  have 
taken  trifling  liberties.  To  Mr.  S.  S.  Drury  and  Mr. 
Charles  Hill,  University  friends  who  have  rendered  kind 
aid  on  several  historical  details,  I  owe  many  thanks. 

W.  S.  D. 

HARVARD  UNIVERSITY. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 
I 


I. 

How 

II. 

How 

III. 

How 

IV. 

How 

V. 

How 

VI. 

How 

VII. 

How 

VIII. 

How 

IX. 

How 

X. 

How 

XI. 

How 

XII. 

How 

XIII. 

How 

XIV. 

How 

XV. 

How 

XVI. 

How 

XVII. 

How 

XVIII. 

How 

XIX. 

How 

XX. 

How 

XXI. 

How 

XXII. 

How 

BARON  WILLIAM  SALLIED  FORTH 
RICHARD  WON  THREE  FRIENDS 
RICHARD  WON  A  BROTHER 
RICHARD  WENT  TO  PALERMO     . 
RICHARD  WON  Two  FOES  . 
ROLLO  MET  INSULT    .... 
DE  VALMONT  SENT  HIS  GAGE    . 
IFTIKHAR  SPED  A  VAIN  ARROW 
TRENCHEFER  DROVE  HOME 
IFTIKHAR  SAID  FAREWELL  TO  SICILY 
RICHARD  FARED  TO  AUVERGNE 
RICHARD  CAME  TO  ST.  JULIEN  . 
RICHARD  SINNED  AGAINST  HEAVEN    . 
RICHARD'S  SIN  WAS  REWARDED 
RICHARD  FOUND  THE  CRUCIFIX 
LADY  IDE  FORGAVE  RICHARD    . 
RICHARD  SAW  PETER  THE  HERMIT    . 
RICHARD  MET  GODFREY  OF  BOUILLON 
RICHARD  TOOK  THE  CROSS 
RICHARD  RECEIVED  GREAT  MERCY   . 
RICHARD  RETURNED  TO  LA  HAYE 

RICHARD  PARTED  WITH  HIS  BROTHER 
ix 


13 

24 

37 
46 

S3 
64 
74 
81 

94 
"3 

121 

127 

138 
148 
I58 

1 68 

179 
187 

195 
206 
214 
224 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXIII.  How  IFTIKHAR'S  MESSENGER  RETURNED 

XXIV.  HOW   THEY   SLEW   THE   FlRST   INFIDEL     . 

XXV.  How  DUKE  GODFREY  SAVED  THE  DAY 

XXVI.  How  RICHARD  WAS  AGAIN  CHASTENED 

XXVII.  How  THE  ARMY  CAME  TO  ANTIOCH 

XXVIII.  How  RICHARD  REGAINED  HIS  BROTHER 

XXIX.  How  IFTIKHAR  BORE  HOME  HIS  PRIZE 

XXX.  HOW   THERE   WAS   FESTIVAL   AT   ALEPPO 

XXXI.  How  MARY  REDEEMED  HER  SOUL 

XXXII.  HOW   MORGIANA   PROFFERED   TWO   CUPS 

XXXIII.  How  EYBEK  TURNED  GRAY  . 

XXXIV.  HOW   MUSA    PRACTISED   MAGIC 

XXXV.  How  RICHARD  HEARD  A  SONG 

XXXVI.  HOW   THE    ISMAELIANS   SAW   TRENCHEFER 

XXXVII.  HOW   ROLLO    CARRIED   WEIGHT 

XXXVIII.  How  RICHARD  AND  MUSA  AGAIN  PARTED 

XXXIX.  How  PETER  BARTHELMY  HAD  A  DREAM 

XL.  How  THE  HOLY  LANCE  WAS  FOUND 

XLI.  How  LIGHT  SMOTE  DARKNESS 

XLII.  How  MORGIANA  WOUND  HER  LAST  SPELL 

XLI II.  How  THE  ARMY  SAW  JERUSALEM  . 

XLIV.  How  MORGIANA  BROUGHT  WARNING     . 

XLV.  How  RICHARD  HAD  SPEECH  WITH  MUSA 

XLVI.  How  IFTIKHAR  CEASED  FROM  TROUBLING 

XLVII.  How  TRENCHEFER  WAS  BROKEN    . 

XLVIII.  How  RICHARD  SAW  THE  SUN  RISE 


235 

247 
258 
272 
283 

293 
302 

3i5 
328 
34i 
354 
367 
38i 
402 

415 
428 

444 
457 
472 
483 
489 

499 
510 

522 

535 
546 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 
.  16 


40 


"  In  a  twinkling  Richard  was  at  the  head  of  the  raging  brute" 

"  The  cup  trembled,  as  at  the  very  thought  she  shuddered  "  . 

"  The  lad  lay  with  his  bright  locks  in  a  crimson  pool  "         .         .     146 

" '  How  may  I  lift  eyes  to  you  when   I  belong  to  the  cause  of 

Christ?'" 222 

"  Iftikhar  took  from  the  seat  a  little  lute,  touched  the  strings,  and 

sang"   ....  ....     327 

"  All  blindly,  he  knew  they  were  mounting  stairways  "  .  .  401 
"And  in  his  hand  the  rusted  head  of  a  lance"  ....  462 
"  The  infidel  gave  way " 542 


GOD   WILLS    IT! 

PROLOGUE 
HOW   HILDEBRAND   GAVE  A   BATTLE  CRY 

HIGH  noon  in  Italy.  Without,  a  hot  sun,  a  blue  bay,  a 
slow  sea-breeze ;  within,  a  vaulted  chamber,  bare  stone 
walls,  a  few  blazoned  pennons  upon  the  pillars,  here  and 
there  pictured  tapestries,  where  one  might  see  many  a 
merry  tourney  and  passage-at-arms.  Very  gentle  were  the 
footfalls,  though  the  room  was  not  empty :  the  whispers 
were  so  low  that  the  droning  buzz  of  a  bee,  which  had 
stolen  in  at  the  narrow  window,  sounded  loud  as  a  mill 
wheel.  There  were  a  score  of  persons  in  the  chamber : 
tonsured  priests  in  white  stoles,  and  monks  in  black  cas- 
socks ;  knights  in  silvered  hauberks ;  a  white-robed  Moor 
with  the  eyes  of  a  falcon  and  the  teeth  of  a  cat ;  and  a 
young  lad,  Richard,  son  of  Sir  William  the  castellan,  a 
shy  boy  of  twelve,  who  sat  upon  the  stone  window  seat, 
blinking  his  great  eyes  and  wondering  what  it  all  might 
mean.  No  eye  rested  on  the  lad :  the  company  had 
thought  only  for  one  object,  — a  figure  that  turned  wearily 
on  the  velvet  pillows,  half  raised  itself,  sank  once  more. 
Then  came  a  thin  voice,  gentle  as  a  woman's :  — 

"  Abd  Rahman,  come  :  feel  my  wrist,  and  do  not  fear  to 
speak  the  truth." 

The  Moor  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  rose  from  the  rushes 
whereon  he  had  been  squatting ;  stole  noiselessly  to  the 
sick  man's  side.  From  the  arch  of  the  vault  above  dangled 
a  silver  ball.  The  Moor  smote  the  ball,  and  with  his  eye 
counted  the  slow  vibrations  while  his  hand  held  the  wrist. 


2  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Even  the  vagrant  bee  stopped  humming  while  the  sphere 
swung  to  and  fro  for  a  long  minute.  Then  without  a  word 
Abd  Rahman  crept  to  a  low  table  where  a  lamp  was  heat- 
ing a  silver  vial,  and  on  which  other  vials  and  spoons  were 
lying.  He  turned  the  warm  red  elixir  into  a  spoon,  and 
brought  it  to  the  dying  man.  There  was  a  rush  of  color  to 
the  pallid  cheeks,  with  a  striving  to  rise  from  the  pillow  ; 
but  the  Moor  again  held  his  wrist.  Another  long  silence, 
—  then  the  question  from  the  bed  :  — 

"  Do  not  hesitate.     Is  it  near  the  end  ? " 

Abd  Rahman  salaamed  until  his  turban  touched  the 
rushes. 

"  Sheik  Gregorius,  all  life  save  Allah's  is  mortal,"  said 
he  in  mongrel  Latin. 

At  the  words,  there  ran  a  shiver  and  sobbing  through 
all  the  company  ;  the  priests  were  kissing  their  crucifixes ; 
the  monks  were  on  their  knees,  —  and  had  begun  to  mutter 
Agnus  Dei,  qui  tolles  peccata  mundi,  miserere  nobis  !  The 
sufferer's  voice  checked  them. 

"  Sweet  children,  what  is  this  ?  Sorrow  ?  Tears  ? 
Rather  should  you  not  rejoice  that  God  has  remembered 
my  long  travail,  and  opens  wide  the  doorway  to  the  dwell- 
ings of  His  rest  ?  "  But  the  answer  was  renewed  sobbing. 
Only  Abd  Rahman  crouched  impassive.  To  him  death 
was  death,  for  Nubian  slave  or  lordly  Kalif. 

"  Draw  nearer,  dear  brothers,  my  children  in  Christ," 
came  the  voice  from  the  bed.  "  Let  me  see  your  faces ; 
my  sight  grows  dim.  The  end  is  not  far." 

So  they  stood  close  by,  those  prelates  and  knights  of  the 
stout  Norman  fortress  city  of  Salerno,  on  that  five-and- 
twentieth  of  May,  in  the  year  of  grace  one  thousand  and 
eighty-five.  None  spoke.  Each  muttered  his  own  prayer, 
and  looked  upon  the  face  of  the  dying.  As  they  stood, 
the  sun  dropped  a  beam  athwart  the  pillows,  and  lit  up  the 
sick  man's  face.  It  was  a  pale,  thin,  wasted  face,  the  eye- 
lids half  drooping,  the  eyes  now  lack-lustre,  now  touched 
by  fretful  and  feverish  fire ;  the  scanty  gray  hair  ton- 
sured, the  shaven  lips  drawn  tensely,  so  wan  that  the  blue 
veins  showed,  as  they  did  through  the  delicate  hands  at  rest 


PROLOGUE  3 

on  the  coverings.  Yet  the  onlookers  saw  a  majesty  more 
than  royal  in  that  wan  face  ;  for  before  them  lay  the  "  Ser- 
vant of  the  Servants  of  God."  They  looked  upon  Gregory 
VII,  christened  Hildebrand,  heir  of  St.  Peter,  Vicar  of 
Christ,  before  whom  the  imperial  successor  of  Charlemagne 
and  Caesar  had  knelt  as  suppliant  and  vassal.  The 
silence  was  again  waxing  long. 

"  Dear  children,"  said  the  dying  Pope,  "  have  you  no 
word  for  me  before  I  go?"  Whereupon  the  lordliest 
prelate  of  them  all,  the  Archbishop  of  Salerno,  fell  on 
his  knees,  and  cried  aloud  :  — 

"  Oh,  Sanctissime  !  how  can  we  endure  when  you  are 
reft  from  us  ?  Shall  we  not  be  unshepherded  sheep 
amongst  ravening  wolves ;  forsaken  to  the  devices  of 
Satan !  Oh,  Father,  if  indeed  you  are  the  Vicar  of  Our 
Lord,  beg  that  He  will  spare  us  this  loss ;  and  even  now 
He  will  lengthen  out  your  days,  as  God  rewarded  the  good 
Hezekiah,  and  you  will  be  restored  to  us  and  to  Holy 
Church  !  "  But  there  was  a  weary  smile  upon  Gregory's 
pale  face. 

"  No,  my  brother,  be  not  afraid.  I  go  to  the  visible  pres- 
ence of  Our  Lord  :  before  His  very  throne  I  will  commend 
you  all  to  His  mercy."  Then  the  dim  eyes  wandered 
round  the  room.  "Where  is  Odon  ?  Where  is  Odon, 
Bishop  of  Ostia?  Not  here?  — 

" Beatissime"  said  old  Desidarius,  Abbot  of  Monte 
Casino,  "  we  have  sent  urgent  messages  to  Capua,  bidding 
him  come  with  speed." 

A  wistful  shadow  passed  across  the  face  of  Gregory. 

"  I  pray  God  I  may  give  him  my  blessing  before  I  die." 

He  coughed  violently ;  another  vial  of  Abd  Rahman's 
elixir  quieted  him,  but  even  the  imperturbable  face  of  the 
Moor  told  that  the  medicine  could  profit  little. 

"  Let  us  partake  of  the  body  and  blood  of  Our  Lord," 
said  Gregory ;  and  the  priests  brought  in  a  golden  chalice 
and  gilded  pyx,  containing  the  holy  mysteries.  They 
chanted  the  Gloria  Patri  with  trembling  voices ;  the  arch- 
bishop knelt  at  the  bedside,  proffering  the  pyx.  But  at 
that  instant  the  lad,  Richard,  as  he  sat  and  wondered,  saw 


4  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

the  Pope's  waxen  face  flush  dark ;  he  saw  the  thin  hands 
crush  the  coverings  into  folds,  and  put  by  the  elements. 

"I  forget;  I  am  first  the  Vicar  of  Christ;  second,  Hil- 
debrand,  the  sinner.  I  have  yet  one  duty  before  I  can 
stand  at  God's  judgment  seat."  The  archbishop  rose  to 
his  feet,  and  the  holy  vessel  quaked  in  his  hand ;  for  he 
saw  on  the  brow  of  Gregory  the  black  clouds,  foretelling 
the  stroke  of  the  lightning. 

"  What  is  your  command,  Sanctissime  f  "  he  faltered. 

And  the  Pope  answered,  lifting  himself  unaided  :  — 

"  Speak !  how  has  God  dealt  with  the  foes  of  Holy 
Church  and  His  Vicegerent  ?  Has  He  abased  Guibert  of 
Ravenna,  the  Antipope,  very  Antichrist  ?  Has  he  hum- 
bled Henry,  the  German,  Antichrist's  friend  ?  "  The 
voice  was  strong  now ;  it  thrilled  through  the  vaulted 
chamber  like  the  roar  of  the  wind  that  runs  herald  to  the 
thunders. 

And  Desidarius  answered  feebly :  "  Holy  Father,  it  is 
written,  '  He  that  is  unjust  let  him  be  unjust  still.'  Gui- 
bert the  Antipope,  who  blasphemes,  calling  himself  Clement 
the  Third,  still  lords  it  in  the  city  of  Peter;  in  Germany 
Henry  the  accursed  is  suffered  to  prosper  for  yet  a  little 
season." 

Whereupon  Richard  saw  a  terrible  thing.  The  face  of 
the  Pope  flushed  with  an  awful  fury  ;  he  sat  upright  in 
the  bed,  his  eyes  darting  fire,  and  night  on  his  forehead. 
Abd  Rahman  rose  to  quiet  him  —  one  glance  thrust  the 
Moor  back.  None  seconded.  The  Pope  was  still  Pope ; 
his  were  the  keys  of  heaven  and  hell,  —  perdition  to  deny ! 
And  now  he  spoke  in  harsh  command,  as  if  handing  down 
the  doom  of  kingdoms,  as  indeed  he  did. 

"  Hearken,  bishops  and  prelates  !  I,  Gregory,  standing 
at  the  judgment  seat  of  God,  am  yet  the  Vicar  of  Christ. 
Of  me  it  is  said,  '  Whatsoever  ye  shall  bind  on  earth  shall 
be  bound  in  heaven ; '  and  let  my  last  act  on  this  sinful 
earth  be  this  —  to  devote  to  the  devil  and  his  angels  the 
souls  of  Henry,  king  of  the  Germans,  who  vaunts  the 
name  of  emperor,  and  Guibert,  whose  sin  shall  be  forgiven 
never,  for  he  is  Antichrist." 


PROLOGUE  5 

The  pontiff  gasped  for  breath ;  his  voice  sounded  again. 

"  Take  vellum,  and  write  the  formula  of  the  greater 
excommunication  against  the  two  accursed.  Make  haste : 
for  all  the  rest  of  the  world  I  will  forgive,  but  they  shall 
be  parched  forever.  Then  let  me,  like  Pope  Zacharias, 
sign  the  anathema  with  the  very  blood  of  Our  Lord. 
Haste  ;  for  the  time  grows  short." 

They  obeyed  like  mute  slaves.  Richard  saw  a  priest's 
pen  racing  over  the  parchment,  and  shivered  to  his  young 
self;  for  two  of  the  world's  highest  were  being  handed 
over  to  eternal  torment.  The  Pope  still  sat.  In  his  eye 
flashed  a  fire  born  of  passion  passing  reason. 

"  Yes,"  he  ran  on.  "  I  am  the  son  of  the  carpenter  of 
Saona,  the  poor  monk  at  St.  Mary  of  the  Aventine.  Yet 
I  have  been  set  above  kings.  At  Canossa  the  prince  of 
this  world  has  knelt  at  my  feet,  confessing  his  imperial 
majesty  lesser  than  mine.  I  have  made  and  unmade 
kings;  I  have  raised  up  and  pulled  down;  and  the  holy 
bride  of  Christ  shall  come  unblemished  to  her  marriage. 
The  Church  —  the  Church  —  shall  wax  forever;  and  this 
has  been  the  work  of  my  hands ! "  The  Pope  raved,  — 
all  knew  it,  —  but  who  should  say  him  nay?  Still  he 
stormed  on  in  his  passion :  "  They  have  driven  me  to  exile, 
but  mine  is  the  victory.  I  die,  but  the  Church  advances 
to  triumph  !  Kingdoms  fall, — the  Church  is  established. 
The  earth  passes  away,  —  the  Church  sits  down  to  the 
marriage  supper  with  the  Lamb  :  for  the  gates  of  hell  shall 
not  prevail  against  her !  " 

Gregory  saw  the  priest  lift  his  eyes  from  the  writing- 
desk. 

"  Is  it  written  ?  " 

"  It  is  written,  Holy  Father." 

"  Bring  it  to  me,  and  bring  the  chalice  and  the  pen  ;  for 
I  will  sign." 

The  archbishop  brought  the  vellum  and  the  holy  cup, 
and  knelt  at  the  bedside ;  and  others  had  brought  lighted 
candles,  twelve  in  number,  each  held  by  a  prelate  or  priest 
who  stood  in  semicircle  about  the  bed.  Then  while  they 
chanted  the  great  psalm  of  wrath,  they  heard  the  bell  of 


6  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

the  castle  tolling,  —  tolling,  —  not  for  the  death  of  the  body, 
but  for  the  more  grievous  death  of  the  soul.  "  In  consitin- 
matione,  in  ira  consummationis  "  —  "  Consume  them,  in 
wrath  consume  them,"  swelled  the  terrible  chant. 

"  Give  me  the  crucifix,"  commanded  Gregory.  Desida- 
rius  placed  one  of  silver  in  his  hand.  A  priest  at  either 
side  bore  him -up  from  the  bed.  Softly,  but  solemnly  as 
the  Judge  of  the  last  Great  Day,  Gregory  read  the  major 
anathema :  — 

"I,  Gregory,  Servant  of  the  Servants  of  God,  to  whom  is 
given  all  power  in  heaven,  on  earth,  and  in  hell,  do  pro- 
nounce you,  Henry,  false  Emperor,  and  you,  Guibert,  false 
Pope,  anathematized,  excommunicate,  damned  !  Accursed 
in  heaven  and  on  earth,  —  may  the  pains  of  hell  follow  you 
forever  !  Cursed  be  you  in  your  food  and  your  possessions, 
from  the  dog  that  barks  for  you  to  the  cock  that  crows  for 
you!  May  you  wax  blind;  may  your  hands  wither ;  like 
Dathan  and  Abiram,  may  hell  swallow  you  up  quick;  like 
Ananias  and  Sapphira,  may  you  receive  an  ass's  burial ! 
May  your  lot  be  that  of  Judas  in  the  land  of  shades  !  May 
these  maledictions  echo  about  you  through  the  ages  of 
ages! " 

And  at  these  words  the  priests  cast  down  their  candles, 
treading  them  out,  all  crying :  "Amen  and  amen !  So  let 
God  quench  all  who  contemn  the  Vicar  of  Christ." 

Then  in  a  silence  so  tense  that  Richard  felt  his  very  eye- 
balls beating,  Gregory  dipped  in  the  chalice,  and  bent  over 
the  roll.  The  lad  heard  the  tip  of  the  pen  touch  the  vellum, 
—  but  the  words  were  never  written.  .  .  . 

Darkening  the  doorway  was  a  figure,  leaning  upon  a 
crooked  staff ;  in  the  right  hand  a  withered  palm  branch, 
—  the  gaze  fixed  straight  upon  the  Vicegerent  of  God. 
And  Gregory,  as  he  glanced  upward,  saw,  —  gave  a  cry 
and  sigh  in  one  breath  ;  then  every  eye  fastened  upon  the 
newcomer,  who  without  a  word  advanced  with  soft  gliding 
step  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  looked  upon  the  Pope. 

None  addressed  him,  for  he  was  as  it  were  a  prophet,  a 
Samuel  called  up  from  his  long  rest  to  disclose  the  mys- 
teries hid  to  human  ken.  The  strange  visitor  was  of  no 


PROLOGUE  7 

great  height ;  fasting  and  hardship  had  worn  him  almost 
to  a  skeleton.  From  under  his  dust-soiled  pilgrim's  coat 
could  be  seen  the  long  arms,  with  the  skin  sun-dried,  shriv- 
elled. Over  his  breast  and  broad  shoulders  streamed  the 
snow-white  hair  and  beard.  Beneath  the  shaggy  brows, 
within  deep  sockets,  were  eyes,  large,  dark,  fiery,  that 
held  the  onlooker  captive  against  his  will.  The  pilgrim's 
nose  seemed  like  the  beak  of  a  hawk,  his  fingers  like  dry 
talons.  And  all  looked  and  grew  afraid,  for  he  was  as  one 
who  had  wrestled  with  the  glamour  and  sin  of  the  world  for 
long,  and  had  been  more  than  victor. 

Pope  and  pilgrim  gazed  upon  each  other :  first  spoke 
Hildebrand :  — 

"  Sebastian,  my  brother-monk!  " 

"  Hildebrand,  my  fellow  at  St.  Mary's !  " 

Then  the  apparition  fell  on  his  knees,  saying  humbly  :  — 

"  And  will  not  the  Pope  bless  Sebastian  the  palmer  from 
Jerusalem  ? " 

What  the  pontiff  replied  was  lost  to  all  about;  then 
louder  he  spoke :  — 

"  And  has  Sebastian  the  palmer  forgotten  his  love  for 
Hildebrand  the  monk,  when  he  reverences  the  Vicar  of 
Christ  ? " 

But  the  stranger  arose. 

"  I  kneel,  adoring  Gregory,  Vicegerent  of  God  :  I  stand 
to  lay  bare  to  Hildebrand,  the  man,  his  mortal  sin." 

A  thrill  of  horror  ran  through  all  the  churchmen,  and 
the  archbishop  whispered  darkly  to  Desidarius,  but  the 
Pope  reproved :  — 

"And  I  implore  the  prayers  of  Sebastian,  a  more  righteous 
ma  i  than  I ;  let  him  speak,  and  all  Christians  honor  him." 

So  they  stood.  The  palmer  drew  close  to  the  bedside, 
pointing  into  the  pontiff's  face  a  finger  bare  as  that  of  one 
long  in  the  grave. 

"Listen,  Hildebrand  of  Saona!  I  am  come  from  my 
pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of  our  dear  Lord.  I  have  come 
hither  to  fall  at  your  feet,  to  bid  you  remember  the  captivity 
of  the  city  of  Christ,  and  His  sorrow  at  the  wrong  done 
Him  through  His  little  ones.  I  come  to  find  the  Vicar  of 


8  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Christ  like  the  meanest  of  humankind,  nigh  to  death,  and 
preparing  to  stand  naked  at  God's  tribunal.  I  find  him  not 
forgiving  his  enemies,  but  devoting  to  hell.  I  find  him 
going  before  God,  his  last  breath  a  curse  —  " 

But  the  Pope  was  writhing  in  agony. 

"  Not  this,  my  brother,  my  brother,"  rang  his  plea.  "O 
Sebastian,  holier  man  than  I,"  and  he  strove  to  turn  from 
the  palmer's  terrible  gaze,  but  could  not.  "  Not  in  my  own 
wrath  and  hatred  do  I  this.  Henry  and  Guibert  blaspheme 
Christ  and  His  church,  not  me.  Did  I  not  freely  forgive 
Censius  the  brigand,  who  sought  my  life  ?  Have  I  ever 
been  a  worldly  prelate,  whose  cellars  are  full  of  wines, 
whose  castles  abound  with  plate  and  falcons  and  chargers? 
Has  simony  or  uncleanness  ever  justly  been  laid  at  my 
door  ?  Not  so,  not  so,  —  I  am  innocent." 

But  Sebastian  never"  wavered.  "  You  and  I  were  fellow- 
monks  at  St.  Mary's,  friends,  as  one  soul  dwelling  in  two 
bodies.  But  the  pleasure  of  God  led  us  wide  apart ;  you 
became  maker  of  popes,  very  Pope —  I  remained  a  simple 
monk ;  for  our  Lord  spared  me  the  burdens  of  greatness. 
Now  for  the  third  time  I  have  been  to  the  tomb  of  Christ, 
to  plead  pardon  for  my  many  sins  and  I  bring  from  Pales- 
tine treasures  more  precious  than  gold." 

The  whole  company  was  about  the  palmer  when  he  drew 
forth  a  little  packet.  "  See  —  the  finger-bone  of  the  blessed 
St.  Jerome ;  this  flask  is  filled  with  water  of  Jordan ;  this 
dust  my  poor  hands  gathered  at  the  Holy  Sepulchre."  And 
now  all  bowed  very  low.  "This  splinter  is  of  that  wood 
whereon  the  price  of  all  our  sins  was  paid." 

Hildebrand  took  the  last  relic,  kissed  it,  placed  it  in  his 
bosom  lovingly.  Then  came  the  slow  question.  "And  are 
the  Eastern  Christians  still  persecuted,  the  pilgrims  out- 
raged, the  sacred  places  polluted  ?  " 

"  Look,  Sanctissime"  was  the  answer,  tinged  half  with 
bitterness  and  scorn ;  and  Sebastian  bared  his  arm,  showing 
upon  it  a  ring  of  scarce  healed  scars.  "  These  are  tokens 
of  the  tortures  I  endured  by  command  of  the  Emir  of 
Jerusalem,  when  I  rejoiced  to  be  counted  worthy  to  suffer 
for  Christ's  dear  sake." 


PROLOGUE  9 

"  Wounds  of  Our  Lord !  "  cried  the  archbishop  on  his 
knees,  "we  are  unworthy  to  wash  the  feet  of  such  as 
you !  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  palmer.  "  It  was  but  merciful  chas- 
tening. Yet  my  heart  burns  when  I  behold  Christians  curs- 
ing and  slaying  one  another,  while  so  many  infidels  rage 
unslain  and  the  Holy  City  mourns  their  captive.  There- 
fore I  stand  here,  Sanctissime,  to  reproach  you  for  your 
sin." 

Again  Gregory  broke  forth  :  "  Unjust  Sebastian,  eleven 
years  since  I  pleaded  with  King  Henry,  setting  forth  the 
miseries  of  Jerusalem ;  ever  has  my  soul  been  torn  for  her 
captivity.  Did  I  not  profess  myself  ready  to  lead  over 
land  and  sea  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre  ?  Then  the  devil 
stirred  Henry  to  his  onslaught  on  the  Church,  and  God  has 
opened  no  door  for  this  righteous  warfare." 

Sebastian  leaned  over,  speaking  into  the  Pope's  face. 

"  You  have  put  your  hand  to  the  plough  and  looked 
back.  You  promised  Michael  Ducas  the  Greek  aid  against 
the  Turks.  You  anathematized  him  for  heresy.  You  wrote 
of  holy  war.  War  blazed  forth  in  Saxony,  where  your  un- 
derling, Rudolf  of  Swabia,  slew  his  fellow-Christians  with 
your  blessing,  while  Christ's  children  in  the  East  were  per- 
ishing. You  called  to  Rome  Robert  Guiscard,  that  man  of 
sin,  whose  half-paynim  army  spared  neither  nun  nor 
matron  in  its  violence  when  it  sacked,  and  led  thousands 
of  Roman  captives  to  endless  bondage  in  Calabria.  Where 
then  your  anathemas  ?  You  cared  more  for  humiliating 
Caesar  than  for  removing  the  humiliation  of  Christ.  There- 
fore I  reproach." 

There  were  great  beads  of  sweat  on  the  Pope's  forehead  ; 
he  was  panting  in  agony ;  again  and  again  the  splinter 
of  the  cross  was  pressed  to  his  breast,  as  if  the  very 
touch  would  quench  the  raging  flame  within.  "Mea  culpa, 
mea  culpa,  mea  maxima  culpa  !  "  he  was  repeating.  Next 
he  spoke  aloud :  "  Sweet  friends,  bear  witness,  —  all  my 
life  I  have  loved  righteousness  and  hated  iniquity ;  there- 
fore, in  exile,  here  at  Salerno,  I  die.  Yet  our  old  enemy, 
Satan,  has  been  too  strong.  I  am  a  very  sinful  man,  think- 


io  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

ing  too  much  of  the  glory  of  Peter,  too  little  of  the  sorrow 
of  Christ.  Pray  for  me,  —  for  Hildebrand,  chief  of  sin- 
ners ;  for  Gregory  the  Pope  is  nigh  his  end." 

When  the  pontiff's  breath  failed,  there  were  again 
shadows  in  the  doorway,  and  two  figures  entered  treading 
softly ;  the  one  a  tall  and  handsome  churchman,  in  a  high 
prelate's  dress,  the  second  a  cavalier,  not  tall,  but  mighty 
of  limb  and  shoulder,  the  jewels  flashing  on  his  baldric,  the 
gold  spurs  at  his  heels.  The  warrior  threw  back  his  helm, 
and  all  saw  the  long,  fair  beard,  the  steel-blue  eyes,  the 
mien  of  high  command. 

"  Odon,  Cardinal  of  Ostia,  my  dear  son!  "  cried  the  faint- 
ing Pope,  as  the  prelate  knelt  at  the  bedside,  beseeching 
the  blessing.  "But  —  you?"  and  he  wondered,  looking 
upon  the  knight.  The  other  bowed  his  head. 

"Holy  Father,"  said  he,  in  the  tongue  of  northern 
France,  "  do  you  not  know  me  ?  I  have  greatly  sinned  : 
I  have  fought  with  Henry  against  Holy  Church.  I  repent ; 
assign  any  penance  —  for  from  Rome  I  have  come,  seeking 
absolution  at  the  hands  of  the  true  Vicar  of  Christ." 

"And  you  are  —  ?"  came  from  Hildebrand's  thin  lips. 

"  Godfrey  of  Bouillon."  And  the  knight  knelt  beside  the 
cardinal. 

The  light  was  again  in  the  Pope's  eye.  "  Fear  not," 
came  his  words.  "  As  you  have  been  the  foe  of  Holy 
Church,  so  now  you  shall  become  her  champion.  Your 
sins  are  forgiven ;  what  you  shall  do,  learn  hereafter." 
Another  spasm  of  coughing ;  Abd  Rahman  administered 
his  last  elixir.  All  knew  the  end  was  very  near.  But 
again  the  pontiff  spoke.  "  I  must  say  farewell,  sweet  chil- 
dren. Make  Desidarius  my  successor,  for  he  has  served 
Holy  Church  full  long.  But  he  is  old,  and  after  him  " 
his  eyes  went  over  to  Odon  — "  you  shall  sit  upon  the 
throne  of  Peter."  The  prelate  was  in  tears. 

"  Say  it  not,"  he  cried.  "  Unworthy ! — Anselm  of  Lucca, 
Hugh  of  Lyons,  they  are  better  men  than  I." 

"  No,"  said  Gregory,  gently,  "  you  will  succeed  in  due 
time,  and  do  not  refuse  the  service  of  the  Lord."  Then  he 
turned  to  Sebastian.  "  Dear  brother,  O  for  ten  years  of 


PROLOGUE  ii 

life,  five,  one !  I  have  been  an  unfaithful  shepherd  of  my 
sheep  !  But  God  is  all  wise.  Never  in  this  body  shall  I 
call  the  soldiers  of  the  West  to  arm  against  the  enemies  of 
Christ !  Yet  —  yet — "  the  voice  faltered,  steadied  again  — 
"  the  time  cometh  when  God  wills  it,  and  you,  Odon,  shall 
call  forth  the  warriors  of  the  Cross ;  and  you,  O  Godfrey,  — 
be  this  your  penance, — you  shall  lead  the  host  to  Jerusalem. 
And  the  host  shall  move  victoriously,  Frank,  German, 
Italian!  The  Holy  City  shall  be  rescued  from  her  spoilers! 
And  this  be  your  battle  cry,  against  which  paynim  or  devil 
may  not  prevail,  '  God  wills  it ! '  For  what  God  wills, 
may  no  man  or  archfiend  stay  !  " 

His  voice  pealed  like  a  trumpet,  like  the  shout  of  a  daunt- 
less captain  leading  through  the  deathly  press.  All  looked 
on  him.  When  his  hands  stretched  on  high,  every  other 
hand  was  outstretched.  Nearer  they  crowded,  and  the 
swords  of  the  Norman  knights  leaped  from  their  scabbards, 
—  there  was  the  clang  of  mail,  the  flash  of  light  on  bare 
steel, — highest  of  all  the  sword  of  Godfrey.  Hildebrand 
struggled  to  rise ;  Sebastian  upbore  at  one  side,  Odon  at 
the  other.  The  Pope  gazed  upward  toward  the  vaulting 
—  seemingly  through  it  —  beyond  — 

"  I  see  the  heavens  opened,"  was  his  cry.  "  I  see  horses 
and  chariots  ;  a  mighty  host ;  and  Michael  and  all  his  angels 
with  swords  of  fire.  I  see  the  earth  covered  with  armies 
innumerable,  and  red  with  the  carnage  of  countless  battles. 
I  see  the  great  host  of  those  who  have  shed  their  blood  for 
Christ,  ascending  into  heaven,  with  psalms  of  praise,  clothed 
in  white  robes,  while  their  comrades  below  march  on  to 
victory."  A  pause,  —  a  final  burst  of  ecstasy,  —  "I  see 
the  Cross  triumphant  on  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  !  And  all 
this  shall  be  not  now,  yet  speedily ;  for  so  God  wills  it !  " 

The  Pope  reeled ;  Sebastian  caught  him ;  they  laid  him 
on  the  bed.  Abd  Rahman  was  beside  —  no  need  of  his 
skill — a  great  rush  of  blood  surged  from  Gregory's  lips, 
one  brief  spasm  —  he  was  dead. 

"  Christians,"  spoke  Sebastian  the  palmer,  "  think  not 
the  Vicar  of  Christ  has  left  us  unaided  in  this  sacred  task. 
At  the  throne  of  God  he  will  pray  that  our  fingers  be  taught 


12  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

the  sword,  that  we  be  girded  with  strength  for  the  battle. 
And  now  while  his  spirit  is  borne  on  high  by  angels,  let  us 
take  on  ourselves  the  vow  of  holy  war." 

The  lad  Richard,  whose  young  wits  had  been  sadly  per- 
plexed by  all  he  had  seen  since  at  early  morn  he  had  been 
sent  to  watch  in  the  sick-room,  that  his  weary  father  the 
castellan  might  rest,  made  as  if  to  glide  from  the  chamber ; 
but  Sebastian  by  a  glance  recalled.  They  stood  around 
the  bed,  looking  upon  the  dead  man's  face,  their  arms 
stretched  on  high. 

"  We  swear  it !  That  soon  as  the  path  is  plain,  we  will 
free  Jerusalem.  So  God  wills  it !  " 

Thus  cried  Odon,  thus  all ;  but  loudest  of  all  Godfrey  of 
Bouillon.  Then  Sebastian,  turning  to  Richard,  said:  — 

"  And  you,  fair  young  sir,  whom  the  saints  make  the 
sprout  of  a  mighty  warrior  for  Christ  —  will  you  vow  also?" 

Whereupon  Richard,  holding  himself  very  lordly,  as 
became  his  noble  Norman  blood,  replied  with  outstretched 
hand,  in  right  manly  fashion  :  — 

"  Yes,  with  St.  Maurice's  help,  I  will  slay  my  share  of 
the  infidels !  " 

"  Amen,"  quoth  Abbot  Desidarius,  solemnly,  "  Gregory 
the  Pope  is  dead  in  the  body,  but  in  the  spirit  he  shall 
win  new  victories  for  Holy  Church  and  for  God." 


CHAPTER   I 

HOW    BARON    WILLIAM   SALLIED    FORTH 

IT  was  early  dawn  in  May,  1094.  The  glowing  sun  had 
just  touched  the  eastern  mountains  with  living  fire ;  the 
green  brakes  and  long  stretches  of  half-tropical  woodland 
were  springing  out  of  the  shadow  ;  a  thin  mist  was  drifting 
from  the  cool  valleys;  to  the  north  the  sea's  wide  reach 
was  dancing  and  darkling.  Upon  a  little  height  overlooking 
the  Sicilian  town  of  Cefalu  three  men  were  standing,  very 
unlike  in  age  and  dress,  yet  each  with  attention  fixed  on 
one  object,  — a  white  falcon  which  the  youngest  of  the  party 
had  perched  on  his  fist.  Two  of  the  men  were  past  the 
prime  of  life.  Of  one,  the  swarthy  countenance,  sharp  fea- 
tures, bright  Oriental  dress,  ponderous  blue  turban,  and 
crooked  cimeter  proclaimed  him  at  once  a  Moor,  undoubt- 
edly a  Moslem ;  the  other,  taller,  thinner  than  his  com- 
rade, wore  a  coarse,  dark  mantle  ;  his  hood  was  thrust  back, 
displaying  a  head  crowned  with  a  tight-fitting  steel  cap, 
a  face  stern  and  tough,  as  if  it  were  of  oxhide,  marked  almost 
to  deformity  by  plentiful  sword  scars.  He  wore  a  grizzled 
gray  beard ;  at  his  side  jangled  a  heavy  sword  in  battered 
sheath ;  and  in  his  hands,  which  lacked  more  than  one 
finger,  he  held  a  crossbow,  the  bolts  for  which  swung  in  a 
leathern  case  at  his  thigh.  The  two  stood  by  their  third 
companion,  who  was  holding  up  the  falcon  on  a  gold- 
embroidered  glove,  while  the  other  hand  readjusted  the 
feather-tufted  hood  over  the  bird's  eyes. 

"  By  St.  Michael,"  the  young  man  was  declaring,  "  say 
to  me,  Herbert,  and  you  also,  Nasr,  there  was  never  such 
a  falcon ;  no,  not  in  all  Count  Roger's  mews." 

13 


i4  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

The  speaker  stood  at  least  a  head  taller  than  the  others, 
and  they  were  not  short  men.  He  was  a  strong-limbed 
fellow  of  perhaps  two-and-twenty  ;  with  a  face  not  regular 
and  handsome  certainly;  the  cheek-bones  were  too  high, 
the  features  too  rugged,  the  mouth  too  large  for  that.  But 
it  was  an  honest,  ingenuous  face ;  the  brown  eyes  snapped 
with  lively  spirits,  and,  if  need  be,  with  no  trifling  passion  ; 
the  mouth  was  affable ;  the  little  brown  mustache  twisted 
at  a  determined  curve  ;  and  the  short  dark  hair  —  he  was 
bare-headed  —  was  just  curly  enough  to  be  unruly.  He 
wore  a  bleaunt,  an  undercloak  of  fine  gray  cloth,  and  over 
this  was  caught  a  loose  mantle  of  scarlet  woollen,  —  a 
bright  dress  that  marked  out  his  figure  from  afar. 

The  young  man  had  been  speaking  in  Norman  French, 
and  his  comrade  in  the  steel  cap,  who  answered  to  the 
name  of  Herbert,  broke  out  loudly  :  — 

"  Aye,  my  Lord  Richard,  there  is  not  such  a  falcon  in 
all  Sicily  from  Syracuse  to  Trapani ;  not  such  a  bird  as 
will  strike  so  huge  a  crane  or  heron  from  so  far,  and  go 
at  the  quarry  so  fearless."  And  the  old  man  held  up  a 
dead  crane,  as  if  in  proof  of  his  assertion. 

"I  am  glad  to  think  it,"  replied  the  other,  "for  I  have 
no  small  hope  that  when  next  I  go  to  Palermo,  I  may  show 
that  haughty  Louis  De  Valmont  I  know  somewhat  of 
hawking,  and  can  breed  a  bird  to  outmatch  his  best." 

"Allah!"  grunted  Nasr,  the  Moor,  "the  young  Cid  is 
right.  Never  have  I  seen  a  better  falcon.  And  he  does 
well  to  harbor  the  old  grudge  against  the  boisterous  De 
Valmont,  who  will  get  his  dues  if  the  Most  High  will ! 
Ha,  ha  !  "  And  the  old  rascal  began  croaking  in  his  throat, 
thinking  he  was  laughing. 

Nasr  had  spoken  in  Arabic,  but  his  companions  under- 
stood him  well  enough  ;  for  what  tongue  was  not  current 
in  Sicily  ?  The  young  man's  face  was  clouded,  however,  as 
if  by  no  very  pleasant  recollection  ;  then  he  burst  out :  — 

"  By  the  Mass,  but  I  will  not  forget  the  high  words  that 
pompous  knight  spoke  to  me.     If  it  be  a  sin  to  harbor 
an  enmity,  as  Sebastian  the  chaplain  says,  why  then" 
and  he  crossed  himself  —  "I  will  do  penance  in  due  time. 


HOW   BARON   WILLIAM   SALLIED    FORTH          15 

But  the  quarrel  must  he  wiped  out  first."     And  he  clapped 
his  hand  on  his  sword-hilt  to  confirm  his  word. 

"At/"  muttered  Herbert,  "the  churchmen  talk  of  the 
days  when  spears  shall  be  beaten  into  pruning-hooks  — 
so  they  say  it;  but  I  say,  let  old  Herbert  be  dead  before 
that  time  dawns.  What  is  life  without  its  grudges  ?  A 
good  horse,  a  good  sword,  a  good  wife,  and  a  good  grudge 
-  what  more  can  an  honest  man  want,  be  he  knight  or 
'villain'?" 

Richard  yawned  and  commenced  to  scratch  his  head. 

"Ah  !  "  he  commented,  "  it  was  very  early  we  rose  !  I 
have  not  yet  rubbed  the  vapors  out  of  my  crown.  Sir 
Gerald,  the  knight  travelling  from  Palermo  who  lodged 
with  us,  was  given  hospitality  in  my  bed,  and  we  talked  of 
his  horses  and  sweethearts  till  past  midnight.  Then  Broc- 
hart,  my  best  dog,  was  not  content  to  sleep  under  the  bed, 
as  is  his  wont,  but  must  needs  climb  up  and  lie  upon  me, 
and  I  was  too  slumberous  to  roll  him  off;  so  I  have  dreamt 
of  imps  and  devils  all  night  long." 

He  drew  the  strap  tight  that  held  the  falcon  to  his  glove, 
and  led  the  way  down  the  slope,  remarking  that  since  he 
had  tested  the  new  bird  thus  early,  he  would  not  hesitate 
to  display  her  keenness  to  his  father  the  Baron,  who  pro- 
posed to  ride  hawking  that  day.  So  they  passed  down  the 
hill  towards  Cefalu  with  its  white  houses  and  squat- 
domed  churches  spreading  out  below  them,  a  fair  picture 
to  the  eye  ;  for  the  summer  sea,  flecked  by  a  few  fishers' 
sails,  stretched  beyond,  and  the  green  hills  far  to  either 
hand.  Before  them  on  a  sheer  eminence  rose  the  battle- 
mented  keep  of  the  castle,  an  ancient  Saracenic  fortress 
lately  remodelled  by  the  new  Norman  lords,  the  dawn  fall- 
ing bright  and  free  on  its  amber-gray  walls,  and  lending  a 
rich  blush  to  the  stately  crimson  banner  that  from  topmost 
rampart  was  trailing  to  the  southern  wind. 

As  the  three  went  down  the  slope  they  struck  the  high- 
road just  beyond  a  little  clump  of  palm  trees,  and  at  the 
turn  they  ran  on  a  travelling  party  that  was  evidently  just 
setting  forth  from  Cefalu.  There  were  several  women  and 
priests  on  palfreys  and  mules,  one  or  two  mounted  men-at- 


i6  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

arms,  and  several  pack  animals ;  but  the  centre  of  the 
whole  party  was  found  in  an  enormous  black  horse,  who 
at  that  instant  had  flung  off  his  rider,  and  was  tossing  his 
forefeet  in  the  air  and  raging  and  stamping  as  if  by  a 
demon  possessed.  Two  stout  Lombard  serving-men  were 
tugging  at  his  bits,  but  he  was  kicking  at  them  viciously, 
and  almost  worrying  out  of  their  grasp  at  every  plunge. 
The  women  were  giving  little  shrieks  each  time  the  great 
horse  reared ;  the  priests  were  crossing  themselves  and 
mumbling  in  Latin;  and  all  their  beasts  were  growing 
restive. 

In  a  twinkling  Richard  was  at  the  head  of  the  raging 
brute,  and  with  a  mighty  grip  close  to  the  jaw  taught 
the  foaming  monster  that  he  felt  a  master  hand.  A  mo- 
ment more  and  the  horse  was  standing  quiet  and  submis- 
sive. Richard  resigned  his  hold  to  a  servant,  and  turned 
to  the  strange  travellers.  A  fat  man  in  a  prelate's  dress, 
with  a  frosty  .red  face,  was  pushing  his  white  mule  for- 
ward ;  Richard  fell  at  once  on  his  knees,  for  he  recognized 
in  the  churchman  My  Lord  Prelate  Robert  of  Evroult,  the 
Bishop  of  Messina.  The  good  father  was  all  thanks. 

"  Dominns  vobiscum,  my  son  ;  you  have  subdued  a  savage 
beast,  to  which  I,  a  man  of  peace  and  not  of  war,  should 
never  have  given  harborage  in  my  stables.  And  who  may 
you  be,  for  I  have  seen  your  face  before,  yet  forget  the 
name  ? " 

"  Beatissime,  I  am  Richard  Longsword,  son  of  William 
Longsword,  seigneur  of  this  Barony  of  Cefalu." 

"  A  right  noble  knight  you  will  prove  yourself,  no  doubt," 
commented  the  bishop ;  "  when  at  Palermo  do  not  fail  to 
wait  on  me."  And  then,  when  he  had  given  his  blessing, 
he  signed  for  the  cavalcade  to  proceed. 

"  I  thank  your  episcopal  grace,"  quoth  Richard,  still  very 
dutifully  ;  and  then  his  eye  lit  on  another  of  the  travellers, 
—  one  much  more  to  his  liking  than  the  reverend  prelate ; 
for  a  lady  sitting  on  a  second  white  mule  had  thrust  back 
the  yellow  veil  from  before  her  face,  and  the  Norman  caught 
a  glimpse  of  cheeks  red  as  a  rose  and  white  as  milk,  and 
two  very  bright  eyes.  Only  a  glimpse ;  for  the  lady,  the 


HOW  BARON   WILLIAM  SALLIED   FORTH         17 

instant  he  raised  his  gaze,  dropped  the  veil;  but  she  could 
not  cover  up  those  dark,  gleaming  eyes.  Richly  dressed 
was  she,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Greeks,  with  red  ribbons 
on  her  neck  and  a  blue  silk  mantle  and  riding-hood.  Her 
mule  had  a  saddle  of  fine,  embossed  leather,  and  silver  bits. 
At  her  side  rode  an  old  man  in  a  horse-litter  led  by  foot- 
boys  ;  he  also  daintily  dressed,  and  with  the  handsome, 
clear-cut  features  and  venerable  white  beard  of  a  Greek 
gentleman.  The  lady  had  dropped  her  veil  at  his  warning 
nod,  but  now  she  bent  over  the  mule  and  half  motioned  to 
Richard. 

"  You  understand  Greek,  Sir  Frank  ?  "  was  her  question  ; 
not  in  the  mongrel  Sicilian  dialect,  but  in  the  stately  tongue 
of  Constantinople.  In  her  voice  was  a  little  tremor  and 
melody  sweet  as  a  springtime  brook.  The  Norman  bowed 
low. 

"  I  understand  and  speak,  fair  lady,"  replied  he,  in  her 
own  tongue. 

"  How  brave  you  have  been !  "  cried  the  Greek,  ingenu- 
ously ;  "  I  feared  the  raging  horse  would  kill  you." 

Richard  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed  :  — 

"  It  is  nothing ;  I  know  horses  as  my  second  self." 

But  the  lady  shook  her  head,  and  made  all  the  red  ribbons 
and  bright  veil  flutter.  "  I  am  not  wont  to  be  contradicted," 
said  she ;  "  a  brave  deed,  I  say.  I  did  not  think  you 
Franks  so  modest." 

The  old  man  was  leaning  from  the  litter.  "  Let  us  ride, 
my  daughter,"  he  was  commanding.  The  lady  tapped  her 
mule  on  the  neck  with  the  ivory  butt  of  her  whip.  "  Fare- 
well, Sir  Frank ;  St.  Theodore  keep  you,  if  you  make  so 
light  of  peril !  " 

Richard  bowed  again  in  silence.  He  would  not  for- 
get those  eyes  in  a  day,  though  he  had  seen  many 
bright  eyes  at  Count  Roger's  court.  "  Ai,"  cried  he  to  his 
companions,  "  to  the  castle,  or  the  hawking  begins  without 
us." 

So  they  struck  a  brisk  pace,  whilst  Herbert  related  how 
he  had  heard  that  the  Greek  gentleman,  though  a  crip- 
ple, had  stood  high  at  the  court  of  Constantinople,  and 


i8  GOD   WILLS  IT!    . 

that  he  had  come  to  Cefalu  on  a  Pisan  ship  a  few  days  be- 
fore. It  was  declared  he  was  in  exile,  having  fallen  out  of 
the  Emperor's  favor,  and  had  been  waiting  at  Cefalu  until 
the  bishop  came  up,  giving  them  escort  for  the  land  jour- 
ney to  Palermo. 

"  As  for  the  daughter,  ah !  she  is  what  you  have  just 
seen,  —  more  precious  than  all  the  relics  under  a  church 
altar ;  but  her  father  watches  her  as  if  she  were  made  of 
gold !  " 

"  I  am  vexed,"  replied  the  young  man.  "  I  did  not  know 
this  before ;  it  was  uncourtly  that  persons  of  their  rank 
should  lodge  in  Cefalu,  and  no  one  of  the  castle  wait  on 
them."  Then  because  one  thought  had  led  to  another : 
"  Tell  me,  Nasr,  have  you  learned  anything  of  that  Spanish 
knight  whom  they  say  keeps  himself  at  the  country  house 
of  Hajib  the  Kadi  ?  Assuredly  he  is  no  true  cavalier,  or 
he  would  not  thus  churlishly  withdraw  himself.  There 
are  none  too  many  men  of  spirit  here  at  Cefalu,  for  me  to 
stick  at  making  acquaintance." 

Nasr  showed  his  sharp,  white  teeth. 

"  Yes,  I  have  gained  sight  of  the  Spaniard.  From  the 
brother-in-law  of  the  cousin  of  the  wife  of  the  steward  of 
the  Kadi,  I  learn  that  he  is  called  Musa,  and  is  of  a  great 
family  among  the  Andalusian  Moslems." 

Richard  chuckled  at  the  circuit  this  bit  of  news  had 
taken  ;  then  pressed  :  — 

"  But  you  have  seen  him  ?     What  is  he  like  ?  " 

"  If  my  lord's  slave  "  —  Nasr  was  always  respectful  — 
"  may  speak,  —  the  Spanish  knight  is  a  very  noble  cavalier. 
I  saw  him  only  once,  yet  my  eye  tells  if  a  man  has  the  port 
of  a  good  swordsman  and  rider.     Assuredly  this  one  has, 
and  his  eyes  are  as  keen  and  quick  as  a  shooting  star." 

"  Yet  he  keeps  himself  very  retired  about  the  country 
house  ? " 

"  True,  Cid,  yet  this,  they  say,  is  because  he  is  an  exile  in 
Sicily,  and  even  here  has  fears  for  his  life ;  so  he  remains 
quiet." 

"  Foh  !  "  grunted  Richard,  "  I  am  weary  of  quiet  men 
and  a  quiet  life.  I  will  go  back  to  Palermo,  and  leave  my 


HOW   BARON   WILLIAM   SALLIED   FORTH         19 

father  to  eat  his  dinners  and  doze  over  his  barony.  I  have 
the  old  grudge  with  De  Valmont  to  settle,  and  some  high 
words  with  Iftikhar,  captain  of  the  Saracen  guards,  will 
breed  into  a  very  pretty  quarrel  if  I  am  bent  on  using 
them.  Better  ten  broils  than  this  sleepy  hawking  and 
feasting !  " 

So  they  crossed  the  drawbridge,  entered  the  outer  walls 
of  the  bailey,  with  its  squalid  outbuildings,  weather-beaten 
stables,  the  gray,  bare  donjon  looming  up  above ;  and 
entering  a  tiny  chapel,  Richard  and  Herbert  fell  on  their 
knees,  while  a  priest  —  none  other  than  Sebastian,  who 
had  stood  at  Hildebrand's  side  —  chanted  through  the 
"Gloria"  and  "Preface"  But  when  it  came  time  for 
the  sermon,  the  baron's  two  bears,  caged  in  the  bailey, 
drowned  the  pious  prosings  with  an  unholy  roar  as  they 
fell  on  one  another ;  and  the  good  cleric  cried,  "  Amen  !  " 
that  all  might  run  and  drag  them  asunder. 

There  by  the  cage  Richard  greeted  his  father,  —  a 
mighty  man  even  in  his  old  age,  though  his  face  was 
hacked  and  scarred,  and  showed  little  of  the  handsome 
young  cavalier  who  had  stolen  the  heart  of  every  maid 
in  Rouen.  But  in  his  blue  Norman  eyes  still  burned  the 
genial  fire ;  his  tread  was  heavy  as  a  charger's,  his  great 
frame  straight  as  a  plummet ;  a  stroke  of  his  fist  could  fell 
a  horse,  and  his  flail-like  sword  was  a  rush  in  his  fingers. 
He  was  smooth-shaven ;  round  his  neck  strayed  a  few 
white  locks,  all  his  crown  worn  bare  by  the  long  rubbing 
of  his  helmet.  One  could  have  learned  his  rank  by  the 
ermine  lining  on  his  under-mantle,  by  the  gold  plates  on 
his  sword  belt  and  samite  scabbard;  but  in  a  "villain's" 
dress  he  would  have  been  known  as  one  of  those  lordly 
cavaliers  who  had  carried  the  Norman  name  and  fame 
from  the  Scottish  Marches  to  Thessaly. 

Father  and  son  embraced  almost  in  bear-fashion,  each 
with  a  crushing  hug.  Then  Richard  must  needs  kiss  his 
mother,  the  fair  Lady  Margaret  of  Auvergne,  sweet  and 
stately  in  her  embroidered  bleaunt,  with  golden  circlet  on 
her  thick  gray-gold  hair ;  after  her,  Eleanor,  a  small 
maiden  of  sixteen,  prim,  demure,  and  very  like  her  mother, 


20  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

with  two  golden  braids  that  fell  before  her  shoulders 
almost  to  her  knees;  and  lastly,  Stephen,  a  slight,  dark 
lad,  with  a  dreamy,  contemplative  face  and  an  eye  for 
books  in  place  of  arrow-heads,  whom  the  family  placed 
great  hopes  on :  should  he  not  be  bishop,  nay  Pope,  some 
bright  day,  if  the  saints  favored  ? 

"  Hola,  Richard ! "  cried  the  Baron,  with  a  spade-like 
paw  on  his  son's  shoulder.  "  So  you  made  test  of  the 
white  falcon  ;  does  she  take  quarry  ?  " 

"  A  crane  large  enough  to  hold  a  dog  at  bay ! " 

"  Praised  be  St.  Maurice !  Come,  let  us  eat,  and  then 
to  horse  and  away  !  " 

So  they  feasted  in  the  great  hall,  the  plates  and  trenchers 
clattering,  enough  spiced  wine  to  crack  the  heads  of 
drinkers  less  hardened,  the  busy  Norman  varlets  and 
Greek  serving-maids  buzzing  to  and  fro  like  bees  ;  for  who 
could  hawk  with  hunger  under  the  girdle  ?  A  brief  feast ; 
and  all  had  scattered  right  and  left  to  make  ready;  but 
not  for  long. 

Soon  they  were  again  in  the  court,  the  Baron,  his  sons, 
and  Herbert,  with  Aimeri,  the  falconer,  who  had  brought 
out  his  pride,  as  fine  a  half-dozen  of  goshawks  and  ger- 
falcons as  might  be  found  in  all  Sicily.  The  birds  were 
being  strapped  fast  to  each  glove,  the  grooms  were  lead- 
ing out  the  tall  palfreys,  and  the  Baron  stood  with  one 
hand  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  ready  to  dig  his  spurs 
and  be  away,  when  a  mighty  clangor  arose  from  the  bronze 
slab  hanging  by  the  gate. 

"  By  St.  Ouen,"  cried  he,  in  a  hot  Norman  oath,  pausing 
in  his  spring,  "  what  din  is  that  ?  I  have  no  mind  to  put 
off  the  hawking  to  bandy  words  with  some  wandering 
priest  who  would  stop  to  swill  my  wine !  " 

But  Herbert,  the  seneschal,  had  gone  to  the  gate,  and 
came  back  with  his  wicked  eyes  dancing  in  his  head. 

"Ho!  My  lord,  there  will  be  no  hawking  to-day!"  he 
was  bawling  with  all  his  lungs. 

"  Why  not,  rascal  ? "  growled  the  Baron ;  yet  he,  too, 
began  to  sniff  an  adventure,  like  a  practised  war-horse. 

"These  people  will  make  it  clear  to  my  lord." 


HOW  BARON   WILLIAM  SALLIED   FORTH         21 

And  after  the  seneschal  trooped  three  very  dissimilar 
persons,  who  all  broke  out  in  a  breath  into  howls  and  cries. 

The  first  was  a  well-fed  priest,  but  with  a  tattered  cas- 
sock and  a  great  red  welt  swelling  upon  his  bare  poll ;  the 
second,  a  dark-eyed  Greek  peasant  of  the  country  in  a  dress 
also  much  the  worse  for  wear ;  and  the  third,  a  tall,  gaunt 
old  Moor,  whose  one-time  spotless  white  kaftan  and  turban 
were  dust-sprinkled  and  torn.  They  all  cried  and  bel- 
lowed at  once,  but  the  priest  got  out  the  first  coherent 
word. 

"  Rescue,  noble  Baron,  rescue,  for  the  love  of  Christ ! 
My  master,  the  Bishop  of  Messina,  is  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  men  of  Belial,  and  I,  even  I,  of  all  his  following,  am 
escaped  to  tell  the  tale.  Rescue  — " 

And  here  the  Greek  broke  in  :  — 

"  Oh !  most  august  Frank,  by  St.  Basil  and  St. 
Demetrius,  I  adjure  you,  save  my  sister,  whom  the  pirates 
have  carried  away." 

But  the  old  Moor,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  knelt  and  kissed 
the  Baron's  very  feet. 

"  Oh !  fountain  of  generosity,  save  my  master,  for  the 
Berber  raiders  seek  not  his  ransom,  but  his  life.  Rescue, 
O  champion  of  the  innocent !  " 

"  By  the  splendor  of  God !  "  roared  the  Baron,  with  a 
great  oath,  "  I  make  nothing  of  all  this  wind.  What  mean 
they,  Herbert  ? "  And  the  seneschal,  who  stood  by  all 
alert,  replied  curtly :  "  I  gather,  Moorish  pirates  have 
landed  below  the  town  toward  Lascari  to  kill  or  kidnap  the 
Spanish  knight  who  dwells  with  Hajib  the  Kadi ;  and 
doubtless  the  Bishop  of  Messina  and  his  company  have 
fallen  into  their  hands  while  passing  along  the  road.  It 
may  be,  my  lord," —  and  the  sly  fellow  winked,  as  if  the  hint 
would  be  needed,  —  "  that  if  we  ride  forth,  we  may  nip  them 
before  they  regain  the  ship.  The  Kadi's  villa  is  far 
inland." 

Baron  William  was  no  man  of  words  when  deeds  were 
needed.  In  a  trice  he  had  clapped  to  his  mouth  the 
great  olifant  —  the  ivory  horn  that  dangled  at  his  baldric, 
and  its  notes  rang  out  sharp  and  clear.  Twice  he  wound  a 


22  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

mighty  blast ;  and  almost  before  the  last  peal  died  away 
the  castle  was  transformed.  The  Norman  men-at-arms, 
dozing  and  dicing  in  the  great  hall,  were  tearing  their 
shields  from  the  wall,  their  lances  from  the  cupboards  and 
presses.  Forth  sounded  that  merriest  of  jingling,  the 
clinking  of  good  ring-steel  hauberks  as  they  dragged 
them  on.  In  the  stables  feverish  grooms  girt  fast  the  sad- 
dles on  the  stamping  destrers  —  the  huge  war-horses.  And 
up  from  other  parts  of  the  castle  rose  the  boom  of  kettle- 
drums, the  clash  and  brattle  of  cymbals,  as  the  Baron's 
Saracens,  nigh  half  of  his  garrison,  came  racing  into  the 
bailey,  clattering  their  brass-studded  targets  with  their 
bow  staves,  and  tossing  their  crooked  cimeters.  Richard 
and  his  father  had  rushed  into  the  donjon,  but  were  back 
quick  as  thought  with  their  mail  shirts  jangling  about  them, 
and  stout  steel  caps  hiding  all  the  face  save  the  eyes. 
The  good  Baron  was  snorting  and  dancing  for  the  fray  as 
if  it  had  been  his  first  battle ;  or  as  if  he  were  what  the 
jongleurs  said  of  Charlemagne,  "two  hundred  years  old, 
scarred  by  a  hundred  fields,  yet  the  last  to  weary  of  the 
melee." 

Good  Lady  Margaret  stood  by  the  gate  as  the  troops  rode 
out,  after  her  son  and  husband  had  kissed  her.  Dear 
woman !  it  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  seen  them  ride 
forth  perchance  to  deadlier  fields,  but  she  had  not  yet 
learned  to  love  the  blasts  of  the  war-horn.  Until  they 
returned  she  would  spend  the  time  in  the  chapel,  betwixt 
hope  and  fear,  telling  it  all  to  "  Our  Lady  of  Succors." 

"Will  you  not  come  with  us?"  cried  Richard,  gayly,  to 
Sebastian,  the  old  priest,  who  stood  at  his  mother's  side. 
"  Play  Roland's  Bishop  Turpin,  who  slew  so  many  in- 
fidels." 

The  good  man  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  with  a 
sigh :  "  Not  slaying  infidels,  but  slaying  for  slaying's  sake 
you  lust  after,  my  son.  When  you  ride  for  Christ's  love 
only,  then  perhaps  I  ride  with  you ;  but  St.  George  shield 
you — if  not  for  your  sake,  at  least  for  ours." 

The  troops  cantered  forth,  twenty  good  Norman  men-at- 
arms;  as  many  light-mailed  Saracen  riders,  —  the  Baron 


HOW  BARON   WILLIAM   SALLIED   FORTH         23 

and  his  son  in  full  armor.  At  the  turn  in  the  road  below 
the  castle  Richard  waved  his  kite-shaped  shield,  as  last 
salute  to  the  little  group  by  the  drawbridge. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  chapel,  my  children,"  said  Lady 
Margaret  to  her  younger  son  and  her  daughter.  "We 
can  do  nothing  here." 


CHAPTER   II 

HOW    RICHARD    WON    THREE    FRIENDS 

LITTLE  heeded  Richard  Longsword  the  warnings  of 
priest  or  mother,  as  with  a  good  horse  between  his  knees, 
a  stout  shield  tossed  over  his  back,  and  the  white  hawk 
blinking  under  her  hood  and  perched  upon  his  shoulder, 
he  spurred  ahead  of  his  troop,  leading  their  mad  gallop. 
One  thought,  be  it  confessed,  was  uppermost  in  his  mind, 
—  the  Greek  lady  with  the  yellow  veil  and  red  ribbons,  — 
she  the  booty  of  Berber  raiders,  while  he  was  near  by  with 
a  keen  sword  in  his  scabbard !  St.  Maurice  forbid !  So 
furious  was  his  riding  that  the  Baron,  who  was  foaming 
behind,  must  needs  shout  to  him  not  to  outpace  the  com- 
pany. The  ground  sped  fast  under  the  flying  hoofs.  A 
fair  and  fruitful  country  it  was,  had  he  given  it  heed : 
fields  of  cotton,  orchards  of  orange  and  lemon,  flower 
masses  scattered  here  and  there  bright  as  the  rainbow, 
and  the  great  mountains  swelling  up  above  all,  with  Pizzo 
Antenna  and  San  Salvadore  in  the  background,  their 
mighty  summits  standing  forth  as  brown  and  green  crystal 
against  the  azure. 

There  was  a  kind,  sweet  wind  creeping  in  from  the  sea, 
bearing  a  breath  of  the  pure  brine ;  and  to  the  sea  were 
threading  the  silver  rivulets  from  the  meadows,  the  racing 
brooks  from  the  mountain  sides.  Small  place  had  all  this 
in  the  young  Norman's  mind.  Already  as  they  cantered 
westward  toward  the  foothills,  his  keen  eye  had  lit  on  a 
sluggish  column  of  smoke,  at  sight  whereof  he  gave  his 
flying  steed  another  thrust  with  the  rowels  ;  and  all  the 
riders  at  his  back,  when  they  saw,  set  up  one  gleeful  yell, 

24 


HOW  RICHARD  WON  THREE   FRIENDS          25 

—  they  were  on  track  of  the  raiders.  Now  frightened 
Moslem  or  Greek  peasants  scampered  past  them,  too 
scared  to  whimper  out  more  than  a  word  as  to  where  the 
foe  awaited.  Then  as  they  swung  round  a  turn  in  the 
road,  and  cleared  a  clump  of  manna  trees,  a  woman  came 
flying  to  meet  them,  —  old,  but  decently  dressed,  and 
throwing  up  her  hands  she  gave  one  mighty  howl  to 
Richard. 

"  Oh !  Sir  Frank ;  rescue,  rescue  for  my  dear  mistress  ! 
Save  her  from  the  Hagarenes !  "  For  so  the  Greeks  called 
all  the  race  of  Ishmael. 

Richard  bent  low  in  his  saddle.  "  Never  fear,  good 
woman  ;  where  are  the  raiders  ?  I  will  rescue  your  lady  !  " 

"  There  !  "  cried  the  old  woman,  screaming  again.  "  Oh ! 
they  will  kill  us  all !  St.  Irene,  St.  John,  St.  Basil  - 

But  Longsword  did  not  wait  for  her  to  finish  her  adju- 
ration. Right  at  the  turn  in  the  road  were  advancing  a 
knot  of  men  in  bright  barbaric  dresses  with  tossing  spears 
and  brandished  cimeters.  When  they  caught  sight  of 
their  galloping  pursuers,  they  set  up  a  hideous  din  from 
horns  and  cymbals  and  tabors ;  and  the  shout  of  the 
Baron's  party  was  met  by  a  louder  from  fourfold  as  many 
throats. 

The  Baron  had  pricked  up  abreast  of  his  son,  and  one 
sweeping  glance  over  the  freebooters'  array  told  the  story. 

"  Nigh  two  hundred,"  he  muttered  under  his  helmet, 
"  and  think  themselves  too  strong  to  be  molested.  We 
have  met  them  as  they  return  to  their  ship.  Berbers 
mostly,  but  I  see  the  fair  skins  of  some  Christian  renega- 
does.  They  have  captured  some  horses,  and  their  prisoners 
are  strapped  to  them,  in  the  centre  of  the  band.  By  the 
peacock  !  it  will  be  a  pretty  fight  ere  we  get  at  them  !  But 
we  have  our  mounts,  and  one  rider  matches  ten  on  the 
ground." 

The  pirates  stood  on  a  little  clearing  flanked  by  vineyard 
hedges ;  and  a  low  stone  wall  lay  betwixt  them  and  their 
assailants.  The  horde  were  drawing  up  in  close  mass  : 
the  best-armored  men  without,  bowmen  within,  prisoners 
and  booty  in  the  centre.  A  tall  mounted  African  in  a 


26  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

splendid  suit  of  silvered  armor  and  in  gilded  casque  was 
wheeling  about,  ordering,  brandishing  his  long  cimeter,— 
evidently  the  chief.  Just  before  the  pirates  lay  the  wall, 
which  a  mounted  enemy  must  clear  at  a  bound  to  strike 
them.  Baron  William  turned  to  Herbert. 

"  Ready,  my  men  ? " 

"  Ready,  lord." 

Then  again  the  Baron  wound  the  horn,  and  the  restless 
horses  felt  no  spur  when  the  whole  band  as  one  swept  for- 
ward. Right  as  they  came  to  the  leap  of  the  wall  a 
deadly  arrow  fire  smote  them.  Three  steeds  went  down : 
four  riders  reeled ;  but  the  others  took  the  bound  and 
crashed  upon  the  Berbers.  Four  and  five  to  one  were  the 
odds,  but  not  a  rider  that  had  not  slain  his  tens  and  scat- 
tered his  hundreds ;  and  the  weight  of  the  Norman  sword 
and  axe  the  luckless  raiders  felt  with  cost.  Like  a  sledge 
shattering  the  wood  the  impact  smote  them  :  there  was  one 
struggle,  one  wild  push  and  rally  to  maintain  the  spear 
hedge.  It  was  broken,  and  the  Baron's  men  were  cutting 
hand  to  hand,  and  hewing  down  the  Berbers.  Loud  ran 
out  the  Norman  war-cry,  " Nostre  Dame,  Dieti  ay  nous  ade," 
and  the  very  shout  struck  terror  to  the  hearts  of  the  quak- 
ing pirates.  An  instant  of  deadly  fencing  man  to  man, 
and  they  were  scattered.  Like  rats  they  were  breaking 
through  the  thickets  and  dashing  down  the  hillside ;  close 
on  their  heels  flew  Nasr  and  his  Saracens,  shooting  and 
hewing  with  might  and  main. 

But  Richard  had  higher  foes  in  view.  The  instant  the 
pirates  scattered,  their  six  riders  had  struck  out  boldly, 
pushing  their  beasts  over  the  walls  and  through  the 
groves  and  hedges,  all  flying  northward  toward  their  only 
safety,  —  the  ships.  Now  behind  each  of  four  riders  was 
strapped  a  prisoner,  and  it  was  on  these  last  that  Richard 
cast  chiefest  eye  ;  especially  on  one,  for  from  the  pris- 
oner's throat  he  could  see  trailing  red  ribbons.  Leaving 
the  men  to  hunt  down  the  fugitives  on  foot,  he  thrust  his 
steed  by  a  long  leap  over  a  hedge  and  was  away  after  the 
mounted  raiders,  little  recking  whether  he  had  a  follower. 

The  wind  whistled  in  his  teeth  as  his  good  horse  sped 


HOW  RICHARD  WON  THREE   FRIENDS          27 

across  ploughed  lands,  and  took  ditch  or  garden  wall  with 
noble  bounds.  Now  he  was  gaining  on  the  rearmost 
fugitive,  a  lean,  black  African  on  a  stolen  steed,  who  was 
weighted  in  his  race  by  no  less  a  prisoner  than  the  reverend 
bishop.  Richard  laughed  behind  his  helm,  as  he  saw  the 
holy  man  writhing  and  twisting  on  his  uneasy  pillion,  and 
coughing  forth  maledictions  at  every  jolt  in  the  mad  chase. 
The  Norman  swung  up  abreast  the  Moor,  and  struck  out 
with  his  sword.  The  raider  made  shift  to  wield  his 
cimeter,  but  one  stroke  cleft  him  down,  and  as  he  fell  he 
dragged  the  bishop  with  him,  who  landed  on  the  crupper 
with  a  mighty  thud  that  made  him  howl  to  all  the  saints. 

Richard  glanced  back;  two  or  three  of  the  Baron's  men 
were  in  the  far  distance,  the  rest  scattered ;  only  Herbert 
on  a  well-tried  horse  flew  close  at  hand. 

"  Help,  fair  son  !  Maledicte,  I  perish  —  I  die  a  martyr, 
butchered  by  paynims !  "  groaned  the  bishop.  But  Rich- 
ard left  him  to  salve  his  own  bruises,  and  pricked  the 
faster.  Be  the  foe  two  or  twenty,  he  would  follow  the 
lady  of  the  red  ribbons.  Swift  as  a  dream  he  flew  on. 
Before  him  on  the  greensward  lay  the  old  Greek,  thrust 
from  the  pillion  to  lighten  the  load  of  his  captor.  Feebly 
he  struggled  to  rise  as  Richard  swept  past.  "  Ah,  young 
Frank,  for  Christ's  dear  sake  save  my  daughter ! "  was  his 
cry  and  groan. 

"  That  will  I !  "  snorted  the  Norman,  and  he  smote  his 
steed's  neck  with  the  flat  of  his  great  sword.  The  bishop, 
the  Greek  had  vanished  ;  hedge,  ravine,  brooklet,  he  swept 
through  them,  over  them ;  nor  knew  how  often  St.  George 
saved  him  from  headlong  fall.  The  Berbers  were  lashing 
and  prodding  with  their  cimeter  points ;  but  Richard  was 
well  mounted,  only  the  great  black  horse  bearing  the  cap- 
tive lady  sped  ahead  despite  all  Richard's  speed. 

A  stone  wall,  —  all  the  fugitives  cleared  it  saving  the  last, 
behind  whom  was  strapped  a  young  man,  fast  prisoner.  As 
Longsword  flew,  he  saw  this  rider  miss  the  leap,  crash  down- 
ward. In  a  twinkling  all  the  pursued,  save  the  guard  of  the 
lady,  wheeled,  charged  back.  But  Richard  had  reached 
the  wall,  passed  with  a  bound,  and  for  a  long  instant  it  was 


28  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

foil  and  fence,  his  life  dancing  on  three  cimeter  points  at 
his  breast.  Then,  sudden  as  a  thunderclap,  there  was  a 
new  blade  opposed  to  the  Berbers,  —  the  erstwhile  captive 
had  burst  his  bands,  leaped  from  under  the  kicking  charger, 
disarmed  his  guard,  and  was  in  the  midst  of  the  fray,  giving 
blow  for  blow.  But  at  sight  of  him,  all  three  pirates  forsook 
the  Norman,  and  rained  their  blows  upon  the  prisoner. 

"Allah  !  Hew  him  down,  though  we  die  for  it !  "  was  the 
shout  of  their  chief.  The  captive  parried  all  three  as  one ; 
ere  the  second  stroke,  Richard  had  sped  the  first  raider 
past  sword-play.  His  new  ally  beat  down  a  second  with 
a  sweeping  blow.  The  third  cried  "Mercy!"  -but 
neither  gave  him  heed.  The  released  prisoner,  a  light- 
skinned  young  Moslem  of  Spain,  wiry  as  a  hound,  nimble 
as  a  cat,  had  caught  the  rein  of  a  fallen  Berber,  and  swung 
himself  into  the  dead  man's  saddle,  touching  no  stirrup, 
almost  ere  Richard  could  admire. 

"  As  the  Most  High  lives,"  cried  the  Spaniard,  as  if 
rescue  were  mere  incident,  "  after  the  lady !  The  ship 
is  near !  "  And  ride  they  did,  though  the  black  horse  was 
far  ahead  now,  despite  his  burden. 

"  Ride,  Frank,  ride  !  "  shouted  the  other,  leaning  over  his 
steed's  neck,  and  seeming  to  lend  speed  by  very  touch  and 
voice.  "Allah  smite  us,  if  she  is  taken  !  " 

Over  the  foothills,  across  the  rolling  country,  the  feet  of 
their  horses  springing  like  on-rushing  winds,  raced  the  twain. 
They  saw  blue  water  before  an  orange  grove,  and  not  far 
away  the  pirate's  refuge,  —  the  ship.  And  still  the  black 
horse  held  them  in  chase,  though  losing  slowly.  Richard 
flung  the  target  from  his  back,  to  make  greater  speed.  He 
could  see  the  lady  struggling  on  her  uneasy  pillion.  Her 
captor  with  one  hand  gripped  her  fast ;  with  the  other, 
smote  and  prodded  with  his  cimeter.  The  flecks  of  blood 
were  on  the  black  steed's  flanks.  The  lady  plucked  at  the 
Berber's  throat  with  strength  born  of  despair. 

"  Rescue,  rescue,  for  the  love  of  Christ !  "  rang  her  cry ; 
and  as  if  in  answer,  the  great  charger  began  to  plunge  in 
his  gallop,  nigh  casting  his  double  mount.  The  Berber 
wrestled  him  down,  with  a  mighty  strain  on  the  reins ; 


29 

but  in  the  instant  Richard  had  gained  apace.  "Ai  /  St. 
Michael!  "  he  thundered,  his  good  sword  swung  almost  in 
stroke.  But  at  the  shout  there  was  a  wild  yell  from 
beyond  the  orange  trees,  and  as  he  swept  on  he  saw  a 
score  or  more  pirates  rushing  with  drawn  swords  to  greet 
them,  —  and  through  the  grove  the  tacklings  of  the  ship. 
Straight  toward  the  midst  of  the  Berbers  sped  the  black 
horse  :  a  moment,  — the  lady  would  be  lost  indeed ! 

"  Rescue  for  the  love  of  Christ !  "  again  her  wail  in 
reply  to  the  triumphant  howl  of  her  captor.  The  Nor- 
man's hand  was  on  his  shoulder ;  down  he  plucked  the 
white  falcon,  unhooded,  tossed  in  air,  —  one  circle  she  cut, 
then  sped  straight  in  the  flying  raider's  eyes. 

Vainly  he  strove  to  buffet  away  with  a  fist;  the  instant 
the  grip  on  the  reins  relaxed,  the  black  horse  was  plung- 
ing, rearing,  and  Longsword  was  abreast.  With  one  long 
stroke  he  smote  the  Berber  from  the  saddle ;  the  lady 
reeled  also,  strapped  fast.  But  the  Norman,  proud  in  his 
might,  calmed  the  black  horse  with  one  hand  on  the  bits ; 
drew  his  blade  once  across  the  thong,  releasing  the  cap- 
tive. The  pirate  tumbled  to  earth  with  never  a  groan. 

Barely  in  time  —  the  twenty  were  all  about  them  now  ;  but 
Richard  Longsword  fought  as  twenty,  the  Spaniard  as 
twenty  more.  "A  houri  !  A  great  prize!  A  great  ran- 
som!" howled  the  raiders,  seeking  their  prey;  but  they 
ran  on  doom.  For  the  Norman  mounted,  and  in  his  armor 
dashed  them  down  with  his  heavy  sword;  and  those  whom 
the  Spaniard's  cimeter  bit  never  cried  more.  Yet  with  all 
the  death  twinkling  about,  Richard  held  his  steed  and 
mailed  breast  betwixt  the  foe  and  the  lady.  Even  while 
he  fought,  her  clear  Greek  voice  encouraged.  "  Holy 
Mother,  that  was  a  well-struck  blow !  Oh,  were  I  but  a 
man  with  a  sword  !  " 

How  long  the  mounted  two  could  have  beat  back  the 
unmounted  twenty  only  the  wise  saints  know;  for  just  as 
Richard's  hauberk  had  turned  the  third  javelin,  and  his 
eyes  danced  with  stars  when  his  helmet  dinted,  a  new  cry 
rang  from  behind. 

"  Forward,  brothers  !     Slay  !  death  !  "    And  a  bolt  from 


3o  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Herbert's  crossbow  crashed  through  a  pirate's  target,  — 
herald  of  the  advent  of  the  man-at-arms  and  fifteen  riders 
more  ;  at  sight  whereof  the  pirates  —  guessing  at  last  that 
it  was  all  over  with  their  comrades  who  had  gone  inland  — 
fled  like  partridges  through  the  grove,  over  the  white 
sands ;  and  before  Herbert  could  rein  in  his  steaming 
beast,  they  heard  the  blocks  creaking,  as  feverish  hands 
made  sail  and  warped  the  ship  to  sea.  Not  all  thus  to 
escape ;  for  the  Normans  nipped  several,  whom  they 
tugged  away,  strapped  to  the  saddle-bows,  after  having 
searched  them  for  jewels  down  to  their  shoes. 

Richard  looked  about  him.  The  lady,  agile  as  a  fie, 
had  alighted,  and  was  standing,  clinging  with  both  hands 
to  an  orange  tree,  panting  for  breath,  —  as  did  all.  The 
Spaniard  had  dismounted  also,  and  stood  leaning  against 
the  saddle. 

While  waiting  breath  for  speech,  Longsword  surveyed 
the  rescued,  finding  in  both  need  of  more  than  one  glance. 
The  costume  of  the  Moor  had  been  sadly  dealt  with,  but 
his  silken  vest  and  the  shawl  at  his  girdle  were  of  the 
finest  silk,  and  set  off  a  most  shapely  frame.  He  was  tall, 
wiry,  supple  as  a  blooded  charger;  and  no  dress  would 
have  concealed  a  face  so  intelligent,  ingenuous,  winsome, 
that,  as  Richard  looked  thereon,  he  had  but  a  single 
thought,  —  "  I  would  know  more  of  this  man."  The  coun- 
tenance was  a  fine  oval,  the  forehead  not  high  but  promi- 
nent ;  the  eye,  brilliant,  deep,  and  dark ;  the  small  mouth, 
shaded  by  a  black  curly  beard ;  the  skin  not  swarthy,  yet 
tinged  with  pale  brown,  a  gentle  bronzing  of  the  sun-loved 
vegas.  But  these  are  parts  only,  and  the  whole  —  how 
much  fairer  was  it  than  any  part !  For  the  face  thrilled  with 
eager,  active  intelligence,  and  the  eyes  seemed  but  open 
windows  to  a  soul,  —  a  soul  perchance  to  admire,  to 
reverence,  to  love.  And  as  Richard  beheld  him,  he  felt 
a  magic  current  of  fellow-feeling  drawing  him  to  the 
Spaniard,  ere  they  had  spoken  ten  syllables. 

Yet  not  all  the  Norman's  gaze  was  for  the  Moslem  — 
far  from  it.  The  lady  no  longer  wore  her  yellow  veil :  the 
red  ribbons  were  in  tatters  round  her  throat;  her  blue 


HOW  RICHARD   WON   THREE   FRIENDS          31 

'mantle  had  many  a  rent;  but  of  these,  who  would  think? 
She  stood  with  her  brown  hair  all  dishevelled  to  the  winds, 
and  underneath  the  flying  tresses  one  could  see  those 
bright  eyes  —  dark,  bright,  and  very  merry;  a  high,  white 
forehead,  small  red  lips,  and  features  that  seemed  smoothed 
and  rounded  like  some  marble  image  of  the  old  pagans, 
which  Sebastian  had  called  "a  snare  of  Satan."  But  this 
was  no  snare ;  for  these  cheeks  were  moulded  with  a  soft 
texture  and  bloom  like  a  pale  rose ;  not  quite  fair,  like 
Norman  maidens,  but  just  tinted  enough  to  show  the 
breath  of  the  sun.  All  this  Richard  saw,  and  was  not 
awestruck  nor  abashed,  as  in  the  presence  of  many  hand- 
some dames ;  but  simply  delighted,  and,  as  chance  would 
have  it,  the  lady  herself  broke  silence. 

"By  St.  Theodore,  Sir  Frank,"  quoth  she,  holding  out 
both  hands  to  Richard,  "will  you  say  again  to  my  face  that 
you  can  do  nothing  brave  ? "  And  here  she  laughed  so 
merrily,  that  the  Norman  was  laughing  too  when  he  re- 
plied, having  taken  the  hands  :  — 

"  Ah  !  dear  lady,  it  is  the  white  falcon  you  should  thank, 
if  any  praise  be  due." 

"  And  no  praise  for  the  falcon's  trainer  ?  "  quoth  she,  still 
laughing ;  then  with  a  sudden  turn,  while  the  tears  almost 
stood  in  her  eyes,  "  Eu  !  Brave,  noble  sir,  what  may  I  do 
to  repay !  Kneel,  fall  at  your  feet,  kiss  them  ? "  —  and  half 
she  made  to  do  so,  but  Richard  shrank  back,  as  if  horrified. 

"St.  Michael  forbid!"  cried  he;  "rather  this,  let  me 
kneel  and  kiss  your  hand,  blessing  Our  Lady  she  has  suf- 
fered me  to  save  you !  " 

"  But  the  peril  was  very  great !  "  protested  the  lady, 
while  Richard  did  as  he  wished,  and  kissed  a  hand  very 
small  and  white. 

"  But  the  joy  of  peril  is  greater  in  such  a  cause ! "  he 
flashed  back,  rising.  There  was  a  shadow  flitting  across 
that  bright  face. 

"My  father?"  the  question  came  slowly.  "He  is — safe?" 

"  I  saw  him  released ;  have  no  fear.  I  swore  to  him  I 
would  save  you."  And  the  flush  of  pleasure  was  Richard's 
tenfold  payment. 


32  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  Let  us  go  to  him,"  said  the  Norman,  as  he  bade  one  of 
the  men-at-arms  arrange  a  pillion  and  ride  back  with  the 
Greek  toward  the  scene  of  the  first  battle. 

"Ah!  may  all  the  dear  saints  bless  you  and  your  good 
men  —  I  would  give  my  life  for  my  father !  "  said  she. 

So  while  the  lady  rode  ahead,  Richard  galloped  stirrup 
to  stirrup  with  the  Spaniard.  He  had  needed  no  words  to 
tell  him  that  the  Moslem  was  a  notable  cavalier,  and  the 
Spaniard  had  dispelled  all  doubts  by  a  frank  declaration  of 
his  name  and  position. 

"  Know,  O  Frank,  that  you  have  this  day  won  the  eter- 
nal gratitude  of  Musa,  son  of  Abdallah,  the  late  Vizier  of 
Al'mu'tamed,  King  of  Cordova,  though  I  am  better  known 
as  '  the  Sword  of  Granada,'  for  in  that  city  have  I  spent 
much  of  my  life." 

And  the  Christian  bowed  his  casqued  head  in  humblest 
reverence,  asking:  — 

"Then  truly  have  I  saved  that  famous  knight,  who, 
they  say,  held  the  lists  at  Toledo,  during  the  truce,  against 
the  Cid  Campeador  and  all  his  cavaliers  ? " 

"  I  had  that  fortune,"  said  the  Spaniard,  smiling,  and 
returning  the  bow;  "but,"  and  he  spoke  lightly,  "I  would 
not  have  you,  Sir  Frank,  regard  me  in  an  awesome  fashion ; 
for,  believe  me,  after  striking  the  blows  I  saw  you  give  to- 
day, you  may,  I  think,  break  lances  with  the  best,  and  owe 
deference  to  none." 

"Ah,  my  lord,"  cried  Richard,  "it  has  been  a  great 
privilege  for  a  simple  '  bachelor '  like  myself  to  be  of 
service  to  so  great  a  warrior." 

The  Moslem  laughed,  and  made  reply:  "No,  I  will  not 
be  '  lorded '  by  you.  I  think  I  know  an  equal  and  a  friend 
when  I  set  eyes  on  him.  To  you  my  name  is  Musa ;  and 
yours — ? " 

"  Richard  Longsword,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Then,  O  Richard,  we  know  one  another  and  are 
brothers." 

Then  and  there,  while  the  horses  were  at  a  merry  pace, 
the  two  young  men  leaned  over  their  saddles  and  caught 
one  another's  hands.  And  at  that  moment  was  stricken  a 


HOW  RICHARD  WON   THREE   FRIENDS          33 

friendship  that  was  destined  to  bind  with  hooks  of  steel 
through  more  than  one  fateful  year.  As  if  to  cement  the 
tie,  Longsword  passed  the  flask  at  his  belt  to  the  Spaniard. 

"  Drink,  friend,  for  you  have  seen  enough  this  day  to 
chill  your  veins,  even  if  your  prophet  forbids  wine." 

"  I  am  but  a  lax  Moslem,"  replied  Musa,  with  another  of 
his  soft  smiles.  And  taking  the  flask,  he  clapped  it  to  his 
lips.  "  '  Wine  of  Paradise ' !  "  cried  he,  when  he  took  it 
away.  "Ah,  an  hour  since  I  expected  that  I  would  be 
soon  drinking  from  the  cups  .of  the  houris  in  the  real  Para- 
dise, or  more  likely" — with  a  sly  wag  of  the  head  — 
"  scorching  in  no  gentle  fire !  " 

"  Then  the  raiders  sought  your  life,  not  your  ransom  ? " 
asked  the  Norman. 

"  Assuredly ;  do  not  think  I  have  lain  so  hidden  here  at 
Cefalu  because,  like  a  dervish  or  one  of  your  monks,  I 
enjoy  solitude.  I  fled  Spain  because  my  blood  is  too 
princely  to  make  my  presence  safe  to  Yusuf,  the  Almora- 
vide,  who  has  come  from  Africa  to  save  us  Spanish  Moslems 
from  conquest  by  the  Christians,  and  who  has  conquered  us 
himself.  When  Granada  fell  and  its  treasures  were  scat- 
tered as  booty  to  his  rude  Berber  officers,  and  when  Seville 
and  all  Andalusia  were  in  his  hands,  imprudently  I  spoke  of 
the  days  of  our  great  Kalifs.  The  words  were  remembered 
by  enemies  and  duly  reported.  Presently  I  heard  that  Yusuf 
suspected  me  of  leading  a  revolt  in  Cordova  against  his  rule, 
and  that  he  keenly  desired  my  head.  I  will  not  tell  how  I 
escaped  to  my  Cid  Campeador  at  Valencia,  and  thence  to 
King  Alfonso  of  Castile.  But  the  Almoravide's  arms  are 
long.  Nowhere  in  Spain  would  I  be  safe.  So  I  came  to 
Sicily,  where  I  have  relatives,  hoping  by  lying  close  to 
elude  his  agents  ;  but  in  vain,  as  has  just  been  proved !  " 

"  So,"  asked  Richard,  "  this  raid  was  on  your  account  ?  " 

"  Of  course,"  replied  Musa ;  "  I  was  surprised  at  the 
country  house  of  Hajib  this  morning,  and  taken  before  I 
could  kill  more  than  two  of  the  pirates.  In  their  chief  I  rec- 
ognized a  corsair  long  in  the  service  of  Yusuf.  They  aimed 
to  bear  me  in  chains  to  Cordova,  that  the  Almoravide  might 
gloat  over  me  alive,  ere  calling  the  headsman.  You  saw 


34  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

how  they  rained  their  blows  at  me,  when  they  saw  rescue 
at  hand." 

"  The  saints  be  praised,  I  saved  you !  "  exclaimed  the 
Norman.  "  You  were  indeed  in  the  very  jaws  of  death." 

"  Aye,"  was  the  careless  answer,  "  and  I  owe  you  all 
thanks;  yet  this  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  imagined  I 
would  see  no  more  mornings." 

"  Ah,  my  lord,  you  are  a  great  cavalier !  "  cried  Richard, 
enthusiastically. 

The  Spaniard  shook  his  hand  in  warning. 

"  I  am  not  '  lord  '  to  you,  brother !  If  Allah  favors 
our  friendship,  what  brave  adventures  shall  we  not  have 
together !  " 

Longsword  made  no  reply.  The  Moor  had  captivated 
him  :  he  felt  that  he  could  ride  through  a  thousand  men- 
at-arms  with  such  a  friend  at  his  side.  Presently  they 
drew  rein  under  a  wide-spreading,  venerable  chestnut  tree 
that  bowed  over  the  highway.  Here  were  gathered  the 
Baron  and  most  of  his  men :  here  was  my  lord  bishop 
sitting  on  the  ground  upon  a  saddle,  still  groaning  and 
rubbing  his  bruised  shins,  while  two  scared  priests  were 
shivering  beside  him,  and  muttering  a  gratias  Deo  for 
their  deliverance  from  the  infidel.  The  old  Greek  was 
also  there,  resting  on  a  saddle-bag ;  but  when  the  young 
Norman  galloped  up  he  made  shift  to  rise  ;  and  his  daugh- 
ter, who  had  already  left  her  pillion,  hastened  to  say :  — 

"  This,  my  father,  is  that  brave  Prankish  nobleman 
to  whom  we  owe  so  much,"  and  then  to  Longsword  :  "  And 
this  is  my  father,  the  Caesar  Manuel  Kurkuas,  late  of 
Constantinople,  but  who  now  is  exile,  and  travelling  to 
Palermo." 

The  old  Kurkuas,  despite  his  lameness,  bowed  in  the 
stately  fashion  of  that  ceremonious  courtesy  which  was  his 
inheritance. 

"  Lord  Richard,"  said  he,  in  his  sonorous  native  tongue, 
for  he  already  knew  the  Norman's  name,  "  the  blessings 
of  a  father  be  yours ;  and  if  at  any  time,  by  word  or  deed, 
I  may  repay  you,  your  wish  shall  be  my  highest  law." 

But  the  daughter  broke  out,  a  little  hotly  :  — 


HOW  RICHARD   WON   THREE   FRIENDS          35 

"  Oh  !  father,  not  in  so  solemn  and  courtly  a  manner 
thank  him  !  We  are  not  in  '  His  Divine  Majesty's  '  palace, 
by  the  Golden  Horn.  Take  him  by  the  hand  as  I  have 
done ;  tell  him  that  we  are  his  friends  forever,  and  that  if 
we  go  back  to  Constantinople,  we  will  take  him  with  us, 
and  share  with  him  all  the  riches,  and  honor  that  would 
belong  to  a  real  Kurkuas." 

The  old  man  listened  to  her  flow  of  eager  words,  half 
pleased,  half  alarmed  ;  then,  with  a  deprecatory  shrug, 
exclaimed  :  — 

"  Pardon  a  thousand  times,  my  lord,  if  I  am  too  old  to 
speak  all  that  lies  at  heart,  save  in  a  cold  and  formal  way. 
Yet  pardon,  also,  my  daughter ;  for  she  has  so  unbridled  a 
tongue  that  if  you  come  to  know  her,  strong  must  your 
friendship  be,  or  she  will  drive  you  from  her  by  sheer  wit- 
less chatter." 

Whereupon,  before  Richard  could  reply,  the  lady  re- 
turned to  the  charge.  "  Yes,  truly,  I  am  half  of  Prankish 
blood  myself.  And  I  think  it  better  to  speak  from  my 
heart  and  declare  '  I  love  you '  and  '  I  hate  you,'  than  to 
move  my  lips  softly  and  politely  and  say  things  that  mean 
nothing." 

The  Greek  shrugged  again,  as  if  accustomed  to  such 
outbursts.  "You  have  lost  your  veil,"  he  said  gently, 
raising  his  eyes. 

"  Assuredly,"  was  the  answer ;  "  nor  do  Prankish  ladies 
wear  them."  Then,  turning  to  Richard,  "Tell  me,  Sir 
Norman,  do  you  see  anything  about  me  to  be  ashamed  of, 
that  I  must  veil  my  face? " 

The  remark  was  advanced  so  naturally,  in  such  perfectly 
good  faith,  that  Longsword,  without  the  least  premedita- 
tion, answered  as  readily  as  if  to  his  sister :  — 

"  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  veil,  my  lady." 

"  Then  do  not  speak  of  it  again,  dear  father,"  said  she. 

The  mules  of  the  bishop's  party,  which  had  been  taken 
when  the  pirates  fell  upon  them,  had  been  recovered,  and 
the  bishop  began  to  stop  groaning  over  his  bruises.  The 
Baron  remarked  that,  although  the  baggage  had  been 
retaken,  it  was  too  late  to  repack  and  make  the  journey 


36  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

that  day.  One  and  all,  they  must  go  back  to  Cefalu  and 
enjoy  the  hospitality  of  the  castle.  The  bishop  demurred, 
when  he  saw  that  the  Moslem  Musa  was  bidden  to  share 
the  feast;  but  he  was  very  hungry,  and  reflected  that 
Christ  and  Mohammed  were  impiously  good  comrades  in 
Sicily.  He  and  the  priests  with  the  Greek  and  his  daughter 
mounted  the  mules  and  started  away,  just  as  Herbert  rode 
up  with  the  tidings  that  the  Berbers'  ship  had  long  since 
put  to  sea.  As  for  the  great  black  horse  that  had  nigh 
carried  Mary  away  from  her  rescuers,  the  grateful  prelate 
bestowed  him  upon  Richard.  "  He  was  an  unruly  beast," 
declared  the  bishop,  "furtosus,  impetuosus,  perditus  eqints, 
in  whom  a  devil  beyond  all  doubt  had  entered ;  and  if  the 
Baron's  son  desired  him,  he  was  welcome,  though  he 
feared,  instead  of  a  gift,  he  was  bestowing  a  cursing." 
But  Richard  beheld  the  huge  crupper  and  chest  of  the 
great  beast,  watched  his  mighty  stride,  and  reflected  that 
such  a  destrer  would  bear  quite  as  safely  in  battle  as  one 
with  the  prized  white  coat  and  greyhound  feet.  Therefore 
he  thanked  the  bishop  and  led  the  horse  away. 

So  they  fared  back  to  the  castle,  while  the  Cefalu  peo- 
ple gave  them  cheers  and  flowers  as  they  passed  along  the 
way ;  but  the  fairest  welcome  was  on  Lady  Margaret's 
face  when  they  all  pounded  over  the  drawbridge. 


CHAPTER   III 

HOW    RICHARD    WON    A    BROTHER 

A  NOTABLE  feast  it  was  the  good  Lady  Margaret  set 
before  her  unexpected  guests ;  for  if  the  warning  was 
short,  the  eager  hands  were  many,  and  the  day  before 
there  had  been  rare  hunting.  The  worthy  Baron,  her 
lord,  took  pride  in  the  goodly  Norman  habit  of  sitting  long 
at  table,  and  would  have  found  eight  hours  none  too  many 
for  meat  and  drink,  had  there  been  another  to  keep  him 
company.  And  if  this  feast  ended  sooner,  there  was  no 
lack  of  good  food  and  better  cheer.  Hincmar,  the  stately 
chamberlain,  marshalled  his  guests  up  to  the  fountain  at 
the  door  of  the  great  hall,  where  they  washed  their  hands 
in  punctilious  order  of  precedence.  The  hall  itself  was 
hung  with  rare  tapestries,  the  floor  was  strewn  with  fresh 
mint  and  cornflags;  over  the  diners'  benches  were  cast  rich 
carpets  of  the  East,  and  for  the  host  and  his  immediate 
relatives  and  guests  were  gilt  chairs  of  embossed  leather. 
Then  the  serving-lads  went  in  and  out,  bringing  wine- 
soup  in  three  kinds  in  remembrance  of  the  Trinity,  and 
flesh  and  fowl,  from  a  stuffed  cormorant  to  a  haunch  of 
bear's  flesh.  Last  of  all  the  great  drinking-horns  began 
to  pass  to  and  fro,  and  the  skins  of  Cyprian  wine  from  the 
cellars,  to  empty. 

The  Baron  had  placed  the  bishop  at  his  right  hand 
at  the  head  of  the  long  table,  on  his  left  the  Greek 
Caesar.  But  a  little  lower  sat  Richard,  and  beside  him 
Musa  and  Mary  Kurkuas ;  and  while  they  were  busy  over 
the  trenchers  talk  flew  fast,  and  these  in  brief  were  the 
stories  they  told  one  another. 

William  Longsword,  the  present  Baron  of  Cefalu,  had 

37 


38  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

been  a  Norman  seigneur  of  noble  lineage  and  slender 
estates  near  the  ducal  capital  of  Rouen.  The  Longswords 
were  an  ancient  house.  They  boasted  their  descent  from 
that  notable  William  Longsword  who  had  succeeded  to  the 
sovereignty  of  Rollo  the  Norman ;  yet,  as  too  often,  a 
great  name  did  not  mean  great  fiefs,  and  young  William's 
best  fortune  was  the  weight  of  his  battle-axe.  But  that 
battle-axe  was  very  heavy.  At  Val-es-Dunes,  when  Will- 
iam the  Bastard  crushed  his  rebellious  barons,  Longsword 
had  won  the  great  Duke's  highest  favor.  At  Hastings 
none  had  struck  doughtier  blows  than  he.  For  a  moment 
he  had  dreamt  of  a  broad  English  barony  and  a  Saxon 
heiress.  But  when  the  new  king  was  at  York  there  rose 
ill-blood  and  a  hint  to  the  monarch  that  the  mutiny  of  cer- 
tain Anjou  mercenaries  was  due  to  his  vassal. 

One  morning  Longsword  finding  that  fetters,  not  fiefs, 
waited  him  in  England,  fled  just  in  time  to  Flanders,  and  went 
south  to  gaaignant,  "  to  go  a  gaining,"  as  the  Normans  put 
it,  seeking  fortune  wherever  the  saints  favored.  In  Au- 
vergne  he  had  married  the  daughter  of  a  mountain  baron, 
but  had  drifted  on  to  Italy,  had  served  with  Counts  Robert 
Guiscard  and  Roger,  his  brother,  in  Calabria,  Epirus,  and 
Sicily  ;  and  at  last  when  Noto,  the  last  Saracen  stronghold 
in  Sicily,  fell,  and  Count  Roger  rewarded  his  faithful  cav- 
aliers, William  Longsword  had  found  himself  Lord  of 
Cefalu,  with  a  stout  castle  and  a  barony  of  peaceful  and 
industrious  Moslems  and  Greeks  for  vassals  ;  now  for  four 
years  past  he  had  ceased  roving,  and  dreamed  of  handing 
down  a  goodly  seigneury  to  his  firstborn. 

Thus  Richard  told  his  father's  story,  and  Mary  related 
more  briefly  how  her  father  —  and  she  proudly  recounted 
his  titles  —  was  the  "preeminently  august"  Caesar  Manuel 
Kurkuas  ;  whose  family  was  of  the  most  noble  and  wealthy 
of  the  whole  imperial  city.  He  had  been  a  great  warrior 
in  his  day,  until  a  crippling  wound  in  the  Patzinak  war  had 
forced  the-one-time  "commander  of  the  guards  "  to  accept 
the  peaceful  office  of  "  first  prefect  "  of  the  capital.  And 
in  this  position  he  might  have  died  in  honor  and  pros- 
perity, had  it  not  come  to  Emperor  Alexius's  ears  that  he 


HOW  RICHARD   WON   A  BROTHER  39 

had  intrigued  in  favor  of  Constantine,  the  son  of  the 
dead  sovereign  Romanus,  who  was  just  raising  the  rebel 
standard.  "And  so,"  explained  his  daughter,  quite  simply, 
for  she  was  bred  at  the  Grecian  court,  "the  Princess 
Anna  Comnena,  who  is  my  kind  friend,  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  all  was  not  well  with  my  father,  and  the  Grand 
Chamberlain  let  fall  that '  his  eyes  were  in  danger.'  There- 
fore, with  the  aid  of  St.  Basil  and  our  cousin,  the  High 
Admiral,  we  made  escape  on  a  Venetian  ship,  and  it  was 
well  we  did;  for  Constantine,  I  hear,  has  been  captured 
and  blinded,  and  if  we  had  been  taken,  the  like  would  have 
befallen  my  father,  and  I  would  have  been  cast  into  the 
convent  of  Antiochus  'to  live  with  the  angels,'  as  they  call 
taking  the  veil,  at  Constantinople." 

"Allah  forbid!"  cried  Musa,  who  had  been  following 
all  her  story,  and  Richard  winced  when  he  thought  of 
those  brown  locks  falling  under  the  shears. 

The  Greek  gave  a  little  shrug  and  shiver.  "Ah  !  "  said 
she,  "  let  us  not  speak  of  it.  Yet  I  do  not  blame  the 
Emperor.  He  has  many  enemies  to  guard  against."  And 
she  paused. 

"  But  you  said  you  were  half  a  Frank,"  said  Richard, 
wishing  to  turn  the  conversation. 

"  Yes,  truly,  my  father  was  envoy  to  the  Duke  of  Aqui- 
taine.  In  Provence  he  met  my  mother,  daughter  of  the 
Baron  of  La  Haye.  She  must  have  been  a  beautiful 
woman.  They  say  all  Constantinople  was  at  her  feet,  when 
my  father  brought  her  there  —  his  bride.  But  she  died 
when  I  was  a  very  little  girl.  I  can  only  remember  her 
bright  eyes  and  sweet  face."  Another  pause  ;  and  Richard 
did  not  try  to  break  it.  Was  he  not  conscious  in  his  inner- 
most soul,  that  there  were  bright  eyes  and  a  sweet  face 
very  close  to  his  own  ?  That  for  an  hour  past,  as  the  fashion 
was,  he  had  been  dipping  his  hand  in  the  same  bowl 
where  also  dipped  another  hand,  soft,  and  white,  and  deli- 
cate ?  The  evening  was  stealing  on.  Now  the  ruddy 
torches  were  sputtering  in  their  cressets  along  the  wall ; 
and  the  glow  fell  softly  over  the  feasters,  seeming  to  hide 
witchery  and  sweet  madness  in  every  flickering  shadow. 


40  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Richard  Longsword  felt  a 
strange  intoxication  stealing  over  him.  Not  the  wine  — 
he  had  not  drained  a  beaker.  Up  at  the  head  of  the  table 
the  Baron  and  the  bishop  were  matching  bumpers,  and  the 
former,  between  his  draughts,  was  trying  to  tell  Caesar 
Manuel  some  tale  of  the  Durazzo  campaign  in  which  they 
had  both  fought,  though  on  opposing  sides.  At  the  foot 
of  the  table  the  Norman  men-at-arms  were  splashing  their 
liquor,  and  roaring  broad  jests  at  the  Greek  serving-maids. 
Musa,  having  satisfied  hunger,  sat  with  his  long  eyelashes 
cast  down  in  dreamy  Oriental  revery.  Only  for  one  face 
and  for  one  voice  did  Richard  have  sight  or  hearing.  The 
princess  held  the  Majolica  cup  to  her  lips,  tasted,  held  it 
toward  the  Norman. 

"  See,"  said  she,  softly,  "  you  have  saved  my  father's 
liberty  —  perhaps  his  life  —  and  me" — the  color  half 
left  the  wonderful  face  while  she  spoke  —  "  from  death  or 
worse."  The  cup  trembled  as  she  shuddered  at  the  thought. 
"  When  the  Berbers  seized  me,  I  pleaded  with  all  the  saints 
to  let  me  die,  —  better  a  thousand  de.at.hs  than  to  breathe 
out  one's  life  captive  in  an  African  harem  !  " 

"  By  Our  Lady,  speak  not  of  it,"  came  from  Richard,  — 
he,  too,  trembling.  But  the  brightness  had  darted  again 
into  the  Greek's  eyes  while  she  continued :  "And  now  attend 
—  the  reward !  Know,  brave  Frank,  that  three  months 
since  a  '  supremely  august '  prince,  close  to  Alexius's  self, 
would  have  given  half  his  inheritance  for  gift  like  this  ! " 

And  with  her  own  hands  she  held  the  cup  to  his  lips. 
Richard  drank.  What  else  possible  ?  He  felt  himself 
caught  in  a  tide  irresistible,  too  delicious  in  its  caress  to 
escape  from  if  he  might.  Was  the  wine  fire,  that  it  burned 
through  every  vein  ?  Yet  the  very  flame  bore  a  sweetness, 
a  delight  beyond  all  thought ;  the  hot  pain  drowned  in  the 
ecstasy.  He  did  not  know  what  he  replied,  but  the  lady 
was  answering. 

"  Eti !  What  joy  I  take  in  you  Franks,  whom  I  have 
never  seen  before  to-day.  When  first  did  we  meet  ?  This 
morning  beside  the  raging  horse  ?  I  think  I  have  known 
and  admired  you  these  score  of  years  !  " 


"  THE  CUP  TREMBLED   AS   AT  THE  VERY  THOUGHT   SHE   SHUDDERED 


HOW  RICHARD  WON  A  BROTHER  41 

"  I  ?  "  quoth  Richard,  wool-gathering. 

The  lady  laughed  at  her  indiscretion. 

"  You  do  well  to  ask.  At  times  my  father  rails  at  me ; 
'  Daughter,  you  open  your  mind  to  strangers  like  a  casket.' 
Again  I  am  silent,  hidden,  locked  fast,  as  my  mood  alters. 
Be  it  so,  I  am  the  open  casket  to-night.  I  will  speak  it  all 
forth.  The  saints  grant  I  may  dwell  amongst  you  Franks  ; 
how  much  better  to  crush  down  a  raging  horse  with  one 
touch,  than  to  know  all  the  wisdom  of  Plato !  " 

"  Why  better  ? "  asked  the  Norman,  never  taking  his 
gaze  from  that  face  all  rosy  in  the  flickering  light. 

"  Why  ? "  her  voice  rose  a  little,  and  the  brightness  of 
the  torches  was  in  her  eyes.  "  Let  others  con  the  musty 
parchments,  —  a  thousand  times  better  are  the  men  who 
do,  as  you  of  the  West, — than  the  weaklings  who  only 
know.  Plato  babbled  foolishness  describing  his  'perfect 
nation,'  for  when  he  strove  to  realize  it  —  failure  !  " 

"These  are  riddles,  sweet  lady!"  cried  Richard;  "who 
was  this  Plato  —  some  pagan  long  since  in  hell  ?  " 

Whereat  the  princess  began  to  laugh  afresh ;  not  offen- 
sively, but  sweetly  as  a  running  brook ;  so  that  the  other 
would  have  said  a  hundred  witless  things  to  make  her 
continue.  Then  she  answered,  her  eyes  dancing,  and 
Richard  thought  he  saw  the  lips  of  the  dreamy  Spaniard 
twitch :  "  Yes,  for  all  his  mist-hung  cobwebs,  he  must  have 
broiled  in  no  common  fire.  But  I  love  better  to  talk  of 
coursing  and  falconry ;  that  science  better  befits  a 
Christian  !  " 

"  St.  Stephen !  "  blurted  out  the  Norman,  pricking  his 
ears,  "  can  you  ride  and  hawk  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  sat  smelling  inkhorns  and  tangling 
silk  yarn  all  day  in  our  palace  by  the  Golden  Gate  ?  I 
had  my  own  Arabian  palfrey,  my  own  dear  goshawks : 
not  four  months  have  flown  since  I  hunted  with  the  Prin- 
cess Anna  over  the  lovely  hills  of  the  Emperor's  pre- 
serves beyond  the  Sweet  Waters  of  Europe.  O " 
and  Richard  almost  thought  her  about  to  weep  —  "St. 
Irene,  pity  my  horse  and  the  birds,  their  mistress  so  far 
away !  " 


42  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  By  the  Mass,"  began  Richard,  more  flighty  than  ever, 
"you  shall  find  our  Sicilian  birds  put  the  best  of  Con- 
stantinople to  shame.  But  the  saints  are  very  kind  not  to 
let  you  grow  more  sad  over  your  loss ;  next  to  losing  one's 
kinsfolk,  what  worse  than  to  lose  horse  or  falcon  !  "  The 
lady  had  kissed  a  second  cup,  and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 
"  Drink,  then,  in  token  of  the  merry  rides  we  shall  have 
side  by  side,  if  you  come  to  wait  on  us  at  Palermo !  " 

And  Richard  drank,  while  all  the  time  he  felt  the 
tide  of  intoxication  sweeping  him  onward.  Glancing  into 
the  Greek's  eyes,  he  knew  in  a  half-conscious  way  that  a 
like  spirit  possessed  her  too.  Had  they  been  alone,  only 
the  saints  know  what  might  have  befallen.  Richard's 
voice  was  very  loud  when  he  answered,  "  No,  by  the 
Splendor  of  God,  you  must  stay  at  Cefalu,  —  you  shall 
ride  my  best  palfrey ;  fly  the  white  falcon  !  "  The  lady 
cut  him  short  with  another  laugh,  her  face  still  very 
merry :  "  St.  Basil,  make  them  deaf ;  they  all  look  at  us  ! 
What  have  we  been  doing !  " 

Richard  started,  as  from  a  dream  :  father,  mother, 
bishop,  the  Caesar,  were  all  looking  upon  them.  The  Lady 
Margaret  was  turning  a  warning  face  upon  Richard,  but 
the  Caesar  addressed  his  daughter  austerely.  "  My  child, 
these  noble  Franks  and  your  valiant  rescuer  will  take  away 
strange  tales  of  your  conduct  at  this  feast.  Believe  me, 
kind  lords,  my  daughter  is  commonly  less  bold  and  unmaid- 
enly  than  to-night.  This  has  been  a  strange  day  for  us, 
and  we  must  pardon  her  much." 

"You  forget  the  princess  is  not  your  sister,"  added 
Lady  Margaret,  severely,  her  eyes  on  Richard ;  and  the 
Baron  was  ready  with  his  own  word,  but  the  younger 
Greek  cut  all  short. 

"  Yes,  by  St.  Theodore,"  was  her  saucy  cry,  "  this  has 
been  a  strange  day  for  us  all.  And  if  you,  my  father, 
think  my  saving  is  over-dear  at  two  cups  of  wine,  let  the 
Berbers  snatch  me  off  again !  But  give  no  blame  to  my 
Lord  Richard,  for  it  was  I  that  began,  led  on,  and  made 
the  fire  tenfold  hotter." 

Caesar  Manuel  hobbled  to  his  feet. 


HOW   RICHARD   WON    A   BROTHER  43 

"  I  do  not  blame  my  Lord  Richard,"  said  he,  curtly;  "  I 
only  fear  lest  closer  knowledge  make  him  repent  your 
friendship.  Most  gallant  Baron,  and  you,  noble  lady," 
continued  he,  bowing  in  courtly  fashion  to  both,  "I  am 
feeble,  and  my  daughter  has  diverted  you  enough.  With 
your  pardon,  let  us  go  to  our  chambers." 

The  Baron  muttered  something  to  the  effect  that  there 
was  still  much  wine — a  pity  to  miss  it.  Mary  rose  and 
deliberately  allowed  Richard  to  bend  and  kiss  her  hand, 
courtesied  before  the  Baron  and  his  lady,  knelt  while  the 
half-tipsy  bishop  hiccoughed  out  a  benediction.  Stately 
as  a  queen,  she  drew  herself  up,  but  her  last  shaft  was 
darted  at  the  Caesar.  "  Dear  father,  are  you  not  sorry  I 
am  so  little  contrite  ? "  then  to  Richard,  "  And  you,  my 
lord,  do  not  forget  we  go  to  Palermo ! "  There  was  a 
rustle  of  her  dress ;  Manuel  limped  after ;  three  serving- 
varlets  brought  up  the  Greeks'  rear.  They  were  gone. 
Richard  started  again  —  looked  about.  His  mother  and 
sister  had  risen  also.  The  Baron  and  the  bishop  had 
reached  that  stage  of  joviality  where  the  holy  man  was 
commencing  to  sing  and  brandish  his  flagon.  Richard 
tasted  the  wine  —  insipid ;  how  unlike  the  sweet  fire  of  the 
cups  proffered  by  the  lady !  Musa  had  glided  from  his 
revery,  —  was  casting  about  sharply. 

"  My  head  throbs,  though  I  have  drunk  little,"  professed 
the  Norman.  "  Do  you  wish  more  ? "  Musa  shook  his 
head.  "Then  come  upon  the  battlements;  the  bishop's 
bellowing  makes  one  mad." 

They  mounted  through  darkened  chambers,  up  dizzy 
ladders,  to  the  summit  of  the  donjon.  It  was  a  murky, 
cloudy  night  that  greeted  them  as  they  emerged  from  the 
trap-door  and  stood  alone  on  the  stone-girt  platform,  with 
the  land  and  the  sea  one  vague  black  haze  below.  No 
moon,  no  stars ;  only  a  red  flash  on  the  ground  where  the 
light  streamed  from  a  loophole  in  the  great  hall.  No 
sound  save  the  faint  shouts  of  the  drinkers,  echoing  from 
far  below,  and  their  own  measured  footfalls.  They  paced 
the  platform  for  a  few  moments  in  silence.  Then  the 
Norman  broke  forth  in  Arabic :  — 


44  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Musa,  son  of  Abdallah,  we  have  sworn  brotherhood 
Our  friendship  is  young  :  may  I  put  it  to  a  test  ?  " 

"  My  hands,  my  wits,  my  head  if  need  be,  all  yours,  my 
brother,"  replied  the  Spaniard,  never  hesitating. 

"  Help  me  to  gain  the  hand  of  this  lady !  " 

Their  hands  rested  on  one  another's  shoulders.  Richard 
felt — but  perchance  he  was  wrong — a  quiver  run  through 
the  Moslem  ;  only  for  an  instant,  if  at  all.  Very  naturally 
Musa  replied :  — 

"  Had  you  said,  '  Kill  me  this  enemy,'  how  easy  to  aid 
you  !  But  to  win  the  lady,  what  may  I  do  ?  I  am  no 
magician  to  mix  you  philters.  In  her  eyes  I  am  only 
Moslem,  and  Infidel.  She  has  not  learned,  as  have  you 
Sicilian  Normans,  that  Christian  and  Moslem  may  be 
friends.  I  would  be  a  sorry  pursuivant  in  your  behalf." 

Richard  was  silent ;  then  cried  out :  — 

"At,  it  is  all  madness!  I  have  no  need  to  be  told.  I 
set  eyes  on  her  first  this  morning.  Holy  Mother,  what  sin 
is  mine  that  I  should  be  afflicted  thus !  Never  before  have 
I  loved  a  maid  so  much  as  my  white  falcon.  Yet  were  I 
longing  for  a  drop  of  water  in  Purgatory,  I  could  not  have 
greater  desire.  It  is  sin  ;  it  is  madness  ;  I  must  never  see 
her  again,  or  great  sorrow  will  come  of  it !  " 

But  Musa  pressed  his  arm  closer,  and  more  kindly. 

"No,"  said  he,  softly,  in  his  rich  Spanish  accent;  "if  it 
is  mere  fleeting  passion,  it  will  end ;  and  the  upright  man 
is  none  the  worse.  Is  it  a  sin  to  take  delight,  when  Allah 
reveals  to  us  what  seems  a  glimmer  of  Paradise  ?  And  as 
for  the  future,  that  lies  in  the  hands  of  the  Most  High. 
Whatever  is  written  in  the  books  of  our  dooms  —  what 
power  may  withstand  ?  To-day,  call  it  madness,  and  speak 
not  of  it.  To-morrow,  if  it  live,  call  it  passion  —  speak  in 
whispers.  A  month,  a  year;  call  it  love  —  it  will  speak  for 
itself.  It  is  a  fire  —  all  men  see  it.  And  who  would  then 
hide  its  brightness  ? " 

"Ah,"  answered  the  Norman,  "what  day  is  this  !  How 
dare  I  stand  and  speak  thus  to  you  of  what  I  ought  to  hide 
even  from  myself  ?  How  long  have  I  known  you  ?  " 

"How  long?"  replied   the  other,   dreamily.     "Friend- 


HOW   RICHARD   WON    A   BROTHER  45 

ships  are  made  in  the  heart  of  Allah.  Before  the  earliest 
star  was  created,  before  He  said  to  the  earth,  '  Be,'  it  was 
destined  that  friend  should  be  joined  to  friend,  and  when 
two  such  souls  in  the  body  meet  face  to  face,  they  are  not 
strangers.  In  each  other  they  see  a  fellow  that  they  have 
loved,  while  they  dwelt  as  thoughts  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Eternal." 

"  Yes,"  said  Richard,  caught  in  the  pensive  mood  of  the 
other,  "  we  are  friends.  Why  ?  We  know  not.  To 
what  end  ?  A  mystery  !  It  is  well  we  both  believe  God 
is  good." 

"  He  is  good,"  said  Musa,  reverently,  and  they  de- 
scended. 


CHAPTER   IV 

HOW    RICHARD    WENT    TO    PALERMO 

THE  yawning  servants  had  carried  the  bishop  from 
under  the  table,  long  before  Baron  William  that  night 
found  the  bottom  of  his  last  flagon.  Yet  early  the  next 
morning,  none  was  more  nimble  and  jovial  than  he.  The 
Greeks  did  not  come  down  to  the  great  hall ;  they  were 
fatigued,  said  Sylvana  the  old  servant  who  had  adjured 
Richard  to  rescue  them  during  the  fight.  The  Caesar's 
wound  was  paining  him,  and  he  required  the  care  of  his 
daughter.  So  it  was  noon  before  Richard  set  eyes  again 
on  the  princess,  as  she  came  into  the  bailey  with  her 
father  on  her  arm,  to  help  him  into  his  litter.  The  bishop 
was  impatient  to  be  away.  What  with  the  clamor  of  the 
foot-boys  and  grooms,  and  the  neighing  of  impatient  steeds, 
there  was  little  chance  for  ceremonious  leave-taking.  The 
bishop  had  thanks  and  blessings  for  his  rescuers  and 
hosts.  The  Caesar  gave  a  few  courtly  phrases  of  grati- 
tude ;  his  daughter  bestowed  on  Lady  Margaret  and 
Eleanor  each  a  hearty  kiss,  and  for  Richard,  one  smile 
from  her  bright  eyes,  and  the  words,  "  Fail  not  to  wait  on 
us,  if  you  come  to  Palermo."  So  the  troop  started,  leav- 
ing Richard  to  stare  after  them  until  the  cavalcade  was 
a  speck  on  the  roadway,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  day  to 
resolve  many  times  that  to  Palermo  he  would  go  ere  many 
months  be  sped. 

But  in  the  days  that  followed  he  was  not  idle.  First  of 
all  the  bishop's  gift,  the  great  black  horse,  had  to  be 
wrestled  into  submission ;  no  light  task,  for  the  mighty 
beast  would  rage  like  a  bull ;  but  in  the  end  the  brute  was 

46 


47 

conquered,  and  "  Rollo  "  —  such  was  his  christening  —  be- 
came Richard's  boon  comrade  and  second  self;  dear  as 
those  horses  whereof  the  jongleurs  sang,  that  would  snatch 
their  masters  from  the  midst  of  a  host  of  foes,  or  recog- 
nize them  returning  home  after  seven  years,  when  the 
riders'  own  wives  had  forgotten  them.  But  this  was  the 
least  the  raid  of  the  Berbers  had  brought  to  Richard,  for 
he  and  Musa  became  grappled  to  each  other  by  bonds 
of  friendship  that  tightened  each  day.  The  Spaniard  had 
sealed  his  gratitude  by  the  gift  of  a  Valencia  hauberk, 
inwrought  with  gold  wire,  light  almost  as  velvet,  on  whose 
links  once  the  sword  of  Cid  Campeador  had  turned. 
And  Musa  brought  also  a  wonderful  chessboard  of  rock 
crystal  with  men  of  silver,  over  whose  magic  squares  the 
Norman  was  to  puzzle  many  an  hour ;  but  beyond  all  else, 
Musa  brought  himself  —  more  a  marvel  every  hour  to 
Richard  Longsword.  What  had  he  not  learned  and  done ! 
A  swordsman  whose  prowess  in  the  fence  tested  Richard's 
utmost  skill ;  a  poet  whose  musical  Arabic  must  have 
charmed  many  a  fair  brunette  by  the  darkling  Guadal- 
quiver.  He  could  talk  of  elixirs,  alembics,  and  horoscopes. 
The  learning  of  the  University  of  Cordova  was  his;  he 
could  read  Greek  and  Latin,  and  had  a  smattering  of  the 
Languedoc.  Only  a  consistent  Moslem  he  was  not,  — 
neither  going  to  the  mosque  on  Fridays,  nor  abstaining 
from  wine  nor  remembering  the  fasts  ;  and  when  Richard 
asked,  "  Will  you  turn  Christian? "  Musa  had  replied,  laugh- 
ing, "  I  am  of  the  rationalist  school  of  the  Kalif  Mamun,  — 
reason  alone  is  the  father  of  religion  ;  even  the  commands 
of  Al-Koran  are  not  fetters  to  bind,  when  reason  directs 
otherwise." 

Richard  could  only  shake  his  head.  Moslems,  he  was 
very  sure,  were  likely  to  scorch  in  eternal  fire,  but  at  least 
he  conceived  they  ought  to  be  consistent  in  supporting 
their  superstition,  if  they  held  to  it  at  all.  As  for  himself, 
when  he  compared  his  life  and  acquirements  to  Musa's, 
he  grew  exceeding  humble  ;  born  in  a  camp  in  Campania, 
his  boyhood  spent  now  in  this,  now  in  another  Italian  or 
Sicilian  castle,  from  a  lad  he  had  learned  to  wield  a  sword 


48  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

as  became  the  son  of  a  doughty  sire.  But  he  had  neither 
the  gentle  troubadour's  art,  as  the  knights  of  Provence, 
nor  the  deeper  lore  of  the  Spaniard.  Reading,  thanks  to 
Sebastian's  patience,  he  might  make  shift  with ;  he  could 
barely  scrawl  an  awkward  fist.  One  accomplishment  his 
south-Italian  life  gave  him  :  he  could  speak  Greek,  Arabic, 
Latin,  the  Languedoc,  and  the  Languedoil ;  but  with  these 
and  some  skill  in  hawking  and  jousting  his  learning  ended, 
and  it  was  small  enough. 

As  day  sped  into  day,  Musa  was  ever  at  the  castle  of 
Cefalu.  He  had  relatives  in  Palermo  who  desired  him 
there,  and  declared  the  city  safe  against  kidnapper  or 
assassin ;  but  he  was  not  tempted  to  leave  the  country 
house  of  Hajib.  The  Baron  smiled  on  the  friendship ;  he 
had  long  since  learned  to  love  infidels,  if  they  were  only 
brave  knights ;  Sebastian  alone  was  all  fears  and  frowns, 
and  had  many  a  wordy  tilt  with  the  Spaniard. 

"  Ah,  Richard,"  cried  the  chaplain  once,  when  the  two 
friends  sat  at  chess  in  the  great  hall,  "  know  you  not  Holy 
Church  condemns  chess  as  no  less  perilous  to  the  soul  than 
very  dicing  ? " 

And  when  Richard,  despite  prickings  of  conscience, 
would  not  leave  the  game,  Sebastian  admonished  in  pri- 
vate :  — 

"  Remember  the  words  of  the  Apostle :  *  Be  not  un- 
equally yoked  with  unbelievers,  for  what  concord  hath 
Christ  with  Belial  ? '  Be  warned ;  bitter  sorrow  or  perdi- 
tion will  come  of  this  friendship ;  have  you  forgotten  your 
vow  to  slay  the  unbelievers  and  free  Jerusalem  ?" 

"  But  we  await  the  will  of  God,  father,"  answered  Rich- 
ard, carelessly. 

"  And  the  will  of  God  is  that  you  first  cast  off  these  ties 
of  Satan,  and  make  ready  for  holy  warfare,  or  assuredly 
God  will  remember  your  sin  and  punish  you."  But  Rich- 
ard would  not  hear.  Ever  he  drew  closer  to  Musa ;  the 
reckless  paladin  Roland  and  his  "  sage "  friend  Oliver 
were  no  nearer  comrades,  and  in  the  after  days  Longsword 
likened  their  love  to  nothing  less  than  the  bonds  betwixt 
David  and  Jonathan. 


49 

Yet  Sebastian  never  forbore  his  warnings.  "  Dear  son," 
he  said,  when  Musa  was  telling  his  wondering  friend  of  the 
marvellous  mountain  of  Kaf,  which  encircles  the  earth,  and 
whither  the  Almighty  had  banished  the  rebellious  genii, 
"  be  not  seduced  by  the  wisdom  which  cometh  from  the 
Father  of  Lies.  Though  Musa  called  himself  Christian 
(and  were  not  damned  already),  yet  his  soul  would  be  lost 
because  of  his  sinful  learning.  It  was  so  with  Gerbert, 
whom  the  Devil  even  aided  to  become  Pope,  yet  in  the  end 
snatched  away  his  soul ;  in  testimony  whereof  his  bones 
rattle  in  their  tomb,  every  time  a  pope  lies  nigh  to  death." 

"  Wallah!"  cried  the  Spaniard,  gently,  "your  mind, 
friend,  is  as  wide  as  the  bridge  Es-Sirat,  which  bridges 
Hell  on  the  road  to  Heaven,  —  finer  than  a  hair,  sharper 
than  a  sword-edge." 

"  Mock  me  not,  Child  of  the  Devil,"  retorted  the  unap- 
peased  churchman. 

"Nay,"  was  the  mild  answer,  "I  am  not  obstinate. 
Convince  me,  satisfy  my  reason ;  I  will  then  turn  Chris- 
tian." 

"  Ah,"  replied  Sebastian,  sadly,  "  have  you  never  heard 
the  words  of  the  holy  Anselm  of  Canterbury,  '  Let  the 
intellect  submit  to  authority,  when  it  can  no  longer  agree 
therewith  '  ?  " 

Musa  shook  his  head. 

"  Let  us  not  wrangle  to  no  purpose,"  said  he,  extending 
a  frank  hand  ;  "  our  own  Prophet  commands  us,  '  Dispute 
not  with  those  who  have  received  the  scriptures ' -  —  the 
Christians  and  Jews  —  'save  in  the  mildest  manner.' 
Think  not  we  blaspheme  the  Son  of  Mary.  No  good 
Moslem  speaks  His  name  without  adding  'on  whom  be 
peace.'  We  too  hold  He  was  born  of  a  pure  virgin,  by  a 
miracle  of  God,  and  Al-Koran  says  '  He  is  the  word  of 
God,  and  a  spirit  proceeding  out  of  Him.'  ' 

"  Aye,"  made  answer  the  priest,  stripping  his  arm,  and 
smiling  grimly  as  he  pointed  to  his  scars,  "  and  is  this  not 
a  token  of  your  tolerance  and  reverence  ?  " 

Musa  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Mdshallak  !    Those  Seljouks  at  Jerusalem  are  but  bar- 

£ 


50  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

barians,  We  Arabs  love  them  a  little  less  than  we  do 
most  Christians !  " 

"  One  fire  awaits  you  all,"  muttered  the  obdurate  priest, 
withdrawing. 

So  days  sped,  and  a  letter  came  to  Musa  from 
Palermo,  from  his  uncle  the  great  merchant  Al-Bukri, 
the  "  general  syndic  "  of  the  capital.  There  was  promise 
of  patronage  and  high  office  with  the  Fatimite  court  at 
Cairo.  Would  the  Spanish  knight  come  down  to  Palermo 
for  consultation  ?  And  Richard  vowed  loudly  he  would 
travel  to  the  city  too,  only  his  heart  grew  sad  when  Musa 
spoke  of  parting  and  a  career  in  Egypt.  "  Be  not  troubled, 
brother  mine,"  quoth  Musa,  lightly;  "what  is  fated,  is 
fated ;  as  for  my  fortune,  so  far  as  man  may  dispose,  I 
say  as  did  once  an  Egyptian  kalif,  '  I  carry  my  kingdom 
here  ! '  "  and  he  slapped  the  hilt  of  his  cimeter.  And  Rich- 
ard, when  he  thought  of  what  awaited  in  Palermo,  went 
about  with  his  head  in  the  air.  Night  and  day  had  the 
vision  of  the  Greek  been  before  his  face.  Would  he  not 
hew  through  hosts  to  possess  her  ?  Had  he  not  already 
won  a  name  and  a  fame — as  a  true  sprig  of  the  Long- 
swords  ?  Was  not  the  lady  in  his  debt,  had  she  not  shown 
all  favor  ?  What  hindered  him  to  recount  his  father's  fiefs 
to  Manuel,  and  say,  "  Sir,  give  me  your  daughter  !  " 

"  But  the  lady  may  be  dowerless,"  objected  old  Herbert, 
who  had  been  Richard's  confidant  since  earliest  boyhood ; 
"  I  have  little  liking  for  cat-hearted  Greeks  who  spit,  not 
bite.  And  I  fear  the  Emperor  has  snapped  up  all  the 
exiled  Caesar's  estates." 

"No,"  was  his  answer;  "I  hear  that  through  Venetian 
merchants,  Caesar  Manuel  saved  much  ready  money. 
But" — and  Richard's  voice  rose  high  —  "were  she  mine 
with  only  our  old  Norman  dower,  —  a  chaplet  of  roses  and 
a  mother's  kiss,  —  by  St.  Michael,  I  swear  I  would  take 
her ;  for  the  tips  of  her  fingers  are  dearer  than  red  gold !  " 

" Az,"  cried  the  old  daredevil,  "you  have  indeed  a 
merry  passion.  Well,  go  your  way,  and  the  Holy  Mother 
favor  you  ! " 

The  Baron  consented  half  reluctantly  to  his  son's  desires. 
He  did  not  love  most  Greeks ;  but  Caesar  Manuel  had  been 


HOW   RICHARD   WENT  TO   PALERMO  51 

a  brave  cavalier,  and  had  saved  the  wreck  of  his  great 
fortune ;  and  the  Baron  was  too  fond  of  his  eldest  to  refuse 
him  anything  in  reason.  Only,  before  starting,  he  gave 
Richard  this  advice  :  — 

"  Be  not  over-anxious  to  brew  up  more  quarrel  with  that 
Louis  de  Valmont.  I  know  he  comes  from  your  mother's 
country  of  Auvergne,  and  his  family  and  hers  have  been 
long  at  feud.  But  he  is  a  knight  of  great  renown,  and  till 
you  have  won  your  spurs,  do  not  bear  yourself  loftily. 
He  is  a  haughty  man,  high  in  favor  with  Count  Roger, 
and  a  broil  with  him  may  breed  you  little  glory." 

So  Richard  vowed  discretion  after  his  careless  way. 
The  two  friends  were  to  sail  from  Cefalu  upon  a  Tunisian 
corn-ship,  that  made  Palermo  on  her  homeward  voyage. 
Herbert  was  to  follow  by  land,  bringing  down  the  retinue 
and  horses  ;  and  his  young  master  went  on  board,  laughing 
and  promising  himself  that  when  next  Cefalu  lay  under 
his  eyes,  at  his  side  should  be  another. 

Brief  voyaging  and  a  kind  west  wind  brought  the  Tuni- 
sian soon  in  sight  of  the  red  crags  of  Monte  Pellegrino, 
which  dominated  the  "  City  of  the  threefold  Tongue," 
where  dwelt  Greek  and  Latin  and  Arab  in  peace,  brother- 
hood, and  prosperity.  Before  Longsword  and  his  friend 
stretched  Palermo,  its  white  palaces,  its  domes  and  mina- 
rets bright  as  snow  under  the  morning's  azure  sky  ;  around 
them  lay  the  fair  wide  crescent  of  the  harbor  running 
away  to  the  wooded  headland  of  Capo  Zafferana  ;  and 
on  the  emerald  waves  loitered  the  rich  argosies  of  Pisa, 
Amalfi,  Venice,  and  Andalusia,  beating  out  against  the  lag- 
gard wind.  Behind  the  long  reach  of  the  city  stretched  the 
"  Golden  Shell,"  one  long  green  vega,  thick  with  orchards 
of  olive  and  orange ;  broken  with  feathery  palm  groves, 
tinted  with  flowering  thickets  bright  as  the  sunset ;  threaded 
by  the  circling  Preto,  and  many  another  silver  rivulet 
hurrying  to  the  sea. 

A  fair  picture,  thought  Musa ;  while  Richard  repeated 
the  proud  boast  of  its  citizens,  that  Palermo  was  indeed/r/wa 
scdes,  corona  regis,  et  regni  caput.  Then  their  ship  made 


52  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

anchor  off  the  old  Saracen  castle  of  Castellamare,  where 
now  lay  the  Norman  garrison.  Busy  boatmen  set  them 
down  on  the  quay  in  the  harbor  of  Khalessa,  where  were 
the  warehouses  of  the  great  Arab  merchants,  and  where 
all  around  brawled  the  crowd  and  clamor  of  a  half-Eastern 
traffic.  And  even  Musa's  eyes  were  amazed  at  the  wealth 
and  splendor  of  this  busy  city,  which  had  hardly  yet  real- 
ized that  her  masters  now  went  to  church  and  no  more  to 
the  great  mosque.  At  the  stately  house  of  Al-Bakri 
courtly  hospitality  awaited  them.  The  grave  syndic  was 
all  smiles  and  flowery  compliments  to  his  nephew's  pre- 
server, and  cried  out  when  Richard  made  to  go  to  the 
castle.  On  the  next  day  a  messenger  came  for  the  Nor- 
man, with  words  that  made  his  sun  shine  very  bright  and 
the  sea-breeze  sweet  as  nard  of  Araby  —  Caesar  Manuel 
Kurkuas  begged  Richard  to  wait  on  him  at  the  "  Palace  of 
the  Diadem,"  which  lay  without  the  city  by  Monreale. 


CHAPTER   V 

HOW    RICHARD    WON   TWO    FOES 

THE  "  Palace  of  the  Diadem  "  had  been  the  pride  of 
some  haughty  Kelbite  emir  in  the  days  when  Palermo  was 
a  prime  jewel  in  the  Arabian  crown ;  but  the  glory  of  its 
builder's  family  had  long  since  been  laid  low.  Moslem 
had  slaughtered  Moslem  in  the  feuds  that  racked  Sicily. 
Byzantines  and  Pisans  had  menaced  the  capital  and  rav- 
aged its  emerald  vega.  Now  at  last  the  Norman  had  come 
to  conquer,  and  remained  as  lord;  so  that  the  owners  of 
the  palace  had  long  sought  purchaser.  Then  the  Greek 
Caesar  came,  an  exile,  but  with  a  good  store  of  bezants 
held  in  trust  by  Venetian  merchants,  and  the  palace  had 
passed  into  his  hands.  It  lay  on  the  first  slopes  of  the 
hills  rising  back  of  Monreale,  close  by  the  Norman  count's 
hunting  lodge ;  the  steep  mountain  sides  crowding  down 
upon  it  from  above;  before  it,  to  the  north,  the  broad  sweeps 
of  the  Golden  Shell;  and  around,  dense  groves  of  locust 
and  almond,  palm  trees  and  judas  trees,  with  thickets  in 
perennial  bloom.  Here,  all  the  year  long,  little  brooks 
kept  the  greensward  moist  and  sweet ;  and  in  springtime 
the  orange  blossoms  glistered  whiter  than  clouds  against 
rare  green  foliage.  At  evening,  from  behind  clustered 
thickets  would  drift  the  notes  of  the  nightingale,  while 
the  still,  shy  moon  crept  upwards  in  the  sky.  Such  the 
gardens  about  the  palace.  And  the  palace  itself  ?  It  was  a 
lyric  in  stone.  One  could  wander  through  long  halls  and 
wide  courts  in  a  soft  half-light,  with  no  rude  sun  venturing 
to  touch  a  vulgar  ray  upon  the  stalactite  vaults,  the  mazy 
colonnades,  the  red  granite  and  jasper  shafts,  the  tile  work 
and  moulding  of  red  and  blue  and  gold.  Buried  in  the 

53 


54  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

midst  of  these  halls,  where  the  air  ever  breathed  of  musk, 
and  rose-water,  and  frankincense,  what  effort  to  lie  through 
the  round  year,  and  hear  the  fountains  plash  their  music, 
and  dream  of  love,  joy,  and  the  kiss  of  the  houris? 

Here  dwelt  the  Caesar  and  his  daughter.  Not  alone; 
thither  came  all  Palermo,  from  Count  Roger  downward. 
True,  Manuel  was  in  exile,  but  there  were  many  roads  back 
to  Alexius's  favor,  and  once  regained,  the  Caesar's  friend- 
ship was  worth  the  winning.  And  as  for  the  princess,  all 
the  young  knights  quarrelled  in  secret  for  the  chance  to 
offer  her  holy  water  at  church,  or  to  ride  in  Countess  Ade- 
laide's train  when  she  took  the  fair  Greek  hawking.  Much 
ill-blood  was  brewed,  and  some  little  shed ;  for  the  Norman 
and  Saracen  knights  alike  would  almost  have  given  their 
heads  for  one  smile  from  her.  Yet  the  hottest  rivals  were 
the  one-time  friends,  the  great  knight,  Louis  de  Valmont  of 
Auvergne,  far-famed  as  a  jouster,  and  Iftikhar  Eddauleh, 
commander  of  Count  Roger's  Saracen  guards,  reputed  the 
stoutest  lance  in  Sicily. 

Thus  it  befell  that  Louis  and  Iftikhar  (who,  despite  his 
creed  and  dark  skin,  was  all  gallantry  to  the  Christian 
ladies)  had  ridden  to  Monreale  to  pay  their  devoirs  to  the 
princess  on  the  selfsame  day  Richard  and  his  friend  rode 
thither  also.  The  Caesar  affected  something  of  his  native 
state  at  Monreale ;  he  met  his  guests  in  a  marble  court, 
where  a  gilded  swan  was  pouring  tinkling  water  from  its 
curving  throat ;  and  scattered  about  the  alabaster  basin, 
in  the  mild  half-light,  lay  rug-covered  divans,  gay  carpets, 
and  a  great  cushioned  armchair  for  the  aged  Greek.  The 
Caesar  wore  the  insignia  of  his  rank,  —  buskins  of  green 
leather,  and  a  gem-set,  open  cap,  whence  dangled  a  long 
lappet  of  pearls  over  either  cheek.  And  his  daughter,  too, 
was  another  and  far  statelier  lady  than  she  whom  Richard 
Longsword  had  plucked  from  the  Berbers.  She  stood  to 
greet  her  guests,  all  radiant  in  purple  tunic,  a  silken  cape 
about  her  shoulders  which  shone  with  gems  worth  a  baron's 
ransom  ;  and  when  she  spoke,  it  was  with  the  nod  and  mien 
of  one  whose  life  it  had  been  to  command. 

Yet  they  were  very  merry.     De  Valmont  had  equal  fame 


HOW   RICHARD   WON   TWO   FOES  55 

as  troubadour  and  as  cavalier.  He  had  brought  the  prin- 
cess an  "improvised"  canso,  wherein  he  protested  his  abject 
wretchedness  when  the  light  of  her  face  was  hid  from  him, 
professed  himself  her  slave,  and  conjured  heaven,  since  she 
still  remained  so  cold,  to  take  away  his  life,  that  he  might 
no  more  suffer.  At  this  poem  Mary  professed  herself 
delighted ;  for  she  was  long  past  blushing  at  lip  service. 
Then  Iftikhar,  swelling  with  jealousy,  matched  the  Proven- 
$al  with  his  Arabic,  which  Mary,  like  any  cosmopolitan 
Byzantine,  understood  well ;  he  sang  how  all  the  black- 
eyed  maids  of  Paradise  burned  in  jealousy  of  the  Greek, 
how  before  her  beauty  each  nightingale  forgot  his  song, 
and  a  hundred  genii  flitted  about  her,  feasting  their  rav- 
ished eyes.  Whereat  Louis,  in  rivalry,  would  have  capped 
his  song  with  another,  when  a  serving-lad  announced  Rich- 
ard Longsword  and  Musa  of  Granada. 

Longsword  knew  Iftikhar  and  De  Valmont  well,  yet 
in  years  to  come  he  dated  their  contact  from  this  hour. 
Splendid  was  the  emir  in  form  and  face,  with  broad 
shoulders  and  lordly  height  and  poise.  His  swarthy  Egyp- 
tian skin  became  him  as  a  bay  coat  a  charger ;  his  ponder- 
ous hands,  full  black  beard,  red  morocco-shod  feet,  the 
huge  cimeter  at  his  side,  all  spoke  one  word  —  "power"; 
a  prince  in  very  deed,  from  his  jewelled  black  turban  down- 
ward. And  beside  him  stood  Louis,  —  short,  but  great  of 
limb,  fair-haired,  handsome,  save  for  a  certain  smile  more 
arrogant  than  affable.  His  beard  was  trimmed  to  a  little 
beak,  his  hair  carefully  shaven  across  his  forehead,  as  the 
fashion  was ;  and  he  wore  his  native  high  black  boots,  the 
bane  of  all  Provei^al-hating  Normans.  On  the  gold  plates 
of  his  sword-belt  were  jewel-set  rosettes,  and  despite  the 
heat  of  the  day  he  did  not  disdain  to  show  a  mantle  lined 
with  rare  sable,  —  no  poor  cavalier's  dress. 

Mary  greeted  the  newcomers  warmly  ;  warmly  —  yet  to 
Richard  how  different  was  she  from  that  merry  girl  who 
had  pressed  the  cup  to  his  lips  that  fateful  evening  at 
Cefalu !  He  had  come  expecting  to  demand,  and  to  carry 
away ;  and  behold  !  the  laughing  maid  was  a  stately  prin- 
cess ;  her  suitor  was  one  of  a  score  of  young  men  who 


56  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

loved  without  hope ;  his  rivals  were  the  most  valorous 
cavaliers  in  all  the  broad  island.  He  had  but  set  eyes  on 
De  Valmont  and  the  emir,  when  he  saw  his  day-dreams 
vanish  in  thin  air.  What  had  he,  unknighted,  compara- 
tively unrenowned,  to  proffer,  when  such  champions  sought 
her  grace  ? 

Still,  for  a  while  the  talk  ran  gayly.  Mary  told  of  her 
rescue,  and  praised  Longsword's  valor;  but  his  joy  was 
tempered  as  he  saw  the  patronizing  smile  that  sat  on 
De  Valmont's  face,  when  the  recital  finished. 

"  Our  young  friend  comes  of  my  own  Auvergne  stock," 
said  the  knight,  with  venomous  urbanity;  "when  he  reaches 
due  years  he  will  break  lances  with  the  best." 

The  Norman's  cheek  flushed,  but  he  mastered  his  tem- 
per. "You  say  well,  fair  sir;  I  am  indeed  a  very  young 
cavalier.  Yet  I  hope  I  am  not  unworthy  of  my  mother's 
family  of  St.  Julien,  which  has  won  some  small  credit  in 
its  feuds  with  its  neighbors." 

There  was  an  arrow  in  this  reply ;  for  the  houses  of 
St.  Julien  and  Valmont  were  at  bitter  strife,  and  thus  far 
the  saints  had  given  glory  to  the  former.  So  the  knight 
frowned  in  his  turn,  and  shot  back:  — 

"  Yet,  I  think,  good  squire,  that  you  are  Norman  rather 
than  Provencal.  No  gentleman  of  the  South  Country  pre- 
serves that  worthy  old  custom,  whereby  the  father  hands 
down  his  festival  clothes  to  the  son  through  three,  and 
here,  I  imagine,  four  generations." 

The  insult  was  palpable  enough,  but  Longsword  reined 
in  his  anger. 

"You  are  wrong,  Sir  Louis,"  quoth  he,  very  softly; 
"  my  bleaunt  is  new,  though  I  have  no  Provencal  tailor ; 
for  I  remembered  the  saying  of  certain  holy  churchmen : 
'  He  who  dresses  after  the  godless  fashion  of  the  men  of 
the  Languedoc,  puts  in  peril  his  soul.'  " 

The  parry  and  thrust  had  gone  on  long  enough  to 
promise  little  honor  to  De  Valmont,  and  the  knight  ended 
by  saying  blandly :  "  It  grieves  me,  dear  friend,  that  you 
listen  to  such  slanders.  Be  assured  there  are  no  Chris- 
tians better  than  those  of  Provence." 


HOW  RICHARD   WON   TWO   FOES  57 

Richard  affected  to  be  appeased.  Yet  every  moment 
his  soul  was  crying  out  against  this  rival,  who  disdained 
and  mocked  him  as  a  mere  boy.  And  bitterer  grew  his 
wrath,  when  Louis  continued  :  — 

"  Come,  heir  of  Cefalu ;  can  you  not  match  with  me  in 
singing  the  praise  of  the  adorable  mistress  of  our  hearts, 
the  ever  incomparable  Princess  Mary  Kurkuas,  —  flower 
of  the  Greeks,  star  of  the  Moslems,  sun  of  all  Christian 
cavaliers!  Let  us  hold  our  tenso ;  and  contend, — not 
with  sword,  —  but  with  verses,  singing  the  matchless  worth 
of  our  lady." 

Richard  felt  the  anger  swelling  within  him.  He  had 
prudence  in  dealing  with  Louis,  but  not  to  bear  tamely  a 
thrust  of  sheer  malice,  likely  to  permit  a  display  of  his 
rival's  superior  accomplishments  before  the  princess.  Well 
enough  De  Valmont  had  known  that  the  Norman  was  no 
troubadour. 

"  Louis  de  Valmont,"  answered  Longsword,  haughtily, 
"  I  am  no  clerk'  in  your  '  courts  of  love,'  whereof  you 
Provencals  boast  so  often.  When  I  will  praise  man  or 
maid,  I  find  blunt  speech  good  enough,  if  they  have  wit 
to  hear.  When  I  have  difference  with  any  gentleman, 
I  have  a  good  horse  and  a  good  sword  —  and  let  St. 
Maurice  judge  between  us." 

"  By  St.  Martin,"  cried  the  Provencal,  bursting  into  a 
laugh,  "  hear  you  this,  my  Lord  Iftikhar !  Our  excellent 
Norman,  when  I  speak  of  a  contest  of  cansos,  at  once 
talks  of  hauberks  and  lances." 

The  emir  cast  a  disdainful  eye  upon  Longsword. 

" Allah  akhbar!"  he  commenced,  then  more  mildly: 
"yet  how  can  we  say  aught  against  so  excellent  a  young 
man,  as  he  who  plucked  our  princess  from  the  pirates  ?  " 

Richard's  gorge  was  rising;  but  before  his  hot  words 
broke  forth,  Musa,  who  had  bided  his  time,  interposed  :  — 

"  Tell  me,  Cid  Louis,"  said  he,  in  his  broken  Languedoc, 
"men  say  you  have  served  in  Spain ;  is  that  not  so  ?  " 

"I  saw  service  there  with  Raymond  of  St.  Gilles,"-was 
the  answer,  "and  with  King  Alfonso,  and  Cid  Campe- 
ador." 


58  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  And  brave  cavaliers  they  are,"  continued  the  Anda- 
lusian.  "  None  better,  Christian  or  Moslem,  so  far  as 
knightly  courtesy  is  known." 

"  You  say  well,"  asserted  the  Provencal ;  "  they  are 
splendid  knights.  By  the  Cross,"  he  added  deprecat- 
ingly,  "  I  count  myself  no  poor  lance,  with  St.  Mar- 
tin's help ;  but  in  Spain  every  cavalier  was  nigh  my 
peer." 

"  I  rejoice  you  found  such  noble  comrades ;  but,  by 
Allah,  know  this,  O  Frank :  I  have  ridden  against  all 
the  good  lances  of  Spain,  and  Richard  Longsword  of 
Cefalu  is  as  firm  a  saddle  as  the  best ! " 

The  Spaniard  had  drawn  himself  up  haughtily ;  there 
was  fire  in  his  eye,  half  a  threat  in  his  voice.  Neither 
De  Valmont  nor  Iftikhar  cared  to  contradict  him.  And 
when  Louis,  vainly  endeavoring  to  turn  the  tide  that  was 
setting  against  him  in  the  princess's  presence,  again  pro- 
posed a  tenso,  Richard  was  again  able  to  answer  in  tones 
of  lofty  scorn. 

"  Have  you  no  shame,  fair  sir,  to  rehearse  here  the 
frivolous  songs  you  doubtless  learned  at  the  court  of 
William  of  Aquitaine,  whose  cansos  and  tornadas  are  all 
in  praise  of  his  paramours  —  a  new  love  and  a  new  song 
each  day  ? " 

"  Have  a  care,  young  sir,  have  a  care ! "  quoth  the 
southern  knight,  angrily. 

"  I  seek  no  quarrel,"  was  the  reply;  —  "nor  shun  one." 
This  last,  under  the  breath. 

Louis  stepped  before  the  Norman  with  his  hands  on  his 
hips. 

"  Heir  of  Cefalu,"  said  he,  in  undertone,  "  if  it  is  true 
you  are  a  good  lance — well.  But  remember  this,  that  is 
told  in  Auvergne.  On  the  mountains  near  the  castle  of 
Valmont  lies  a  chapel,  whither  often  I  went  to  pray,  wait- 
ing some  champion  to  come  and  test  my  valor ;  but  none 
has  ever  dared,  nor  have  I  ever  ridden  against  my  match, 
save  against  my  own  brother  Raoul,  the  Seigneur  of  Val- 
mont." 

"  Do  not  threaten,"  said  Richard,  still  in  undertone. 


HOW   RICHARD   WON  TWO   FOES  59 

"  Threaten  ?  I  ?  "  replied  the  knight.  "  I  speak  of  the 
past,  not  of  the  present.  Yet  those  are  sorry  who  cross 
my  path." 

They  said  no  more.  The  emir  and  De  Valmont  were 
the  first  to  take  leave.  Mary  gave  Louis  her  hand  to  kiss, 
and  Iftikhar  salaamed  very  low.  When  the  two  were  gone, 
all  who  remained  were  happier ;  and  the  princess,  who  had 
been  silent  long,  found  her  tongue. 

"  You  are  not  a  friend  of  Sir  Louis,  or  the  emir  ? "  said  she. 

"  I  would  not  be  their  foes,"  replied  Longsword,  looking 
into  the  bubbling  fountain  ;  "  yet  it  is  true  Sir  Louis  is  very 
willing  to  think  himself  above  an  unknighted  cavalier. 
And  the  emir  and  I  know  each  other  little." 

"  Ah,"  said  the  lady,  her  eyes  also  resting  on  the  water, 
"  it  is  sad  it  is  thus.  Believe  me,  Lord  Richard,  you  and 
De  Valmont  should  be  friends.  He  is  a  gallant  cavalier. 
I  have  heard  much  of  his  valor.  He  is  a  poet  also.  What 
lady  would  not  lose  her  heart  at  his  compliments  ? " 

Now  all  this  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  Richard,  but  he 
made  shift  to  reply. 

"  Yes,  doubtless  he  is  a  splendid  knight." 

"  But  you  are  not  his  friend  ?     Why  ?  " 

"  Lady,"  replied  the  Norman,  a  little  sourly,  "  if  to  be  the 
cavalier  is  only  to  wear  the  wreath  in  the  tourney,  and  sing 
cansos  in  the  '  courts  of  love '  —  behold  Louis  de  Valmont ; 
from  the  Scottish  Marches  to  our  Sicily  none  knightlier. 
But,"  and  his  eye  kindled,  "with  God's  help,  when  in 
my  turn  I  win  stroke  of  the  accolade,  they  shall  say  of 
Richard  Longsword  that  he  was  more  than  mere  jouster  or 
troubadour ;  for  I  am  no  soft  Provencal  like  De  Valmont. 
My  ancestors  snuffed  the  bleak  north  wind,  and  laughed  at 
the  cold  and  storm.  I  hold  that  the  belted  knight  is  con- 
secrated priest :  standing  in  the  world,  should  behold  its 
sin  and  violence,  and  keep  his  own  heart  pure,  should  lay 
low  the  wicked,  and  lift  up  the  weak ;  for  God  has  set  him 
apart  to  pray,  not  with  his  lips,  but  with  his  good  sword ; 
and  he  should  ride  to  each  metie  as  to  a  sacrament." 

"  Verily,"  cried  she,  smiling ;  "  it  is  you  that  are  now  the 
poet !  " 


60  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  Not  so,"  was  the  half-gloomy  answer ;  "  I  repeat  the 
words  of  Sebastian,  our  chaplain,  who  is  one  of  the  saints 
of  God." 

"  You  will  be  a  noble  cavalier,"  said  Mary,  when  the  two 
friends  arose  to  leave  her.  "  Yet,"  she  added,  "  I  will  not 
have  you  a  foe  to  Louis  de  Valmont.  That  my  friends  should 
be  enemies  among  themselves,  would  be  a  heavy  grief." 

Richard  kissed  Mary's  hand,  and  rode  away.  He  and 
Musa  had  been  bidden  to  come  again  and  often  to  Mon- 
reale ;  but  he  had  no  great  joy  in  the  prospect.  Rather 
his  thoughts  were  darksome  as  the  night. 

The  shadows  were  falling  when  the  Norman  and  his 
friend  left  the  Palace  of  the  Diadem.  The  half-light  of  the 
marble  arcade  was  fading  into  a  soft  haze,  wherein  the 
gauzy  tracery  that  pierced  the  pillared  stone  work  was 
barely  visible.  Manuel  Kurkuas  lay  on  his  cushions,  sunk 
in  silent  reveries ;  his  daughter  had  stolen  to  his  side,  cast 
one  arm  about  his  neck,  and  with  her  other  hand  softly, 
slowly,  stroked  his  long  white  beard.  Neither  spoke  for  a 
long  time.  Presently  in  came  an  Arab  serving-man  with 
noiseless  step :  tiny  lamps  began  to  twinkle  red  and  green 
up  against  the  vaulting,  throwing  the  mazy  mosaic  work  into 
flickering  shadow.  The  tinkle,  tinkle  of  the  fountain  never 
ceased.  They  could  hear  the  note  of  the  nightingales  from 
the  grove,  sweet,  tremulous,  melancholy.  The  servants  set 
a  tray  before  the  Caesar  with  silver  cups,  and  fruit,  and 
cakes,  salaamed  and  retired.  Then  the  fountain  and  the 
bnlbuls  alone  broke  the  evening  calm.  Presently  the  old 
Greek  raised  his  head. 

"  They  have  brought  the  tray  ?  "  he  asked,  still  dreamily. 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  sleeping  powder  in  your  wine.  Will 
you  drink  ? " 

"  Not  yet,"  said  the  Caesar,  still  musing ;  then  half  stir- 
ring :  "  Ah !  my  daughter,  do  you  remember  where  we 
were  one  year  ago  this  night  ? " 

"We  were  at  our  summer  house  by  Chalcedon,  and 
doubtless  had  just  returned  from  a  sail  to  the  Isles  of  the 
Princes  on  the  Emperor's  own  galley." 


HOW   RICHARD   WON   TWO    FOES  61 

"  It  is  beautiful,  that  Bosphorus  ;  and  our  noble  capital," 
ran  on  Manuel,  dreamily.  "No  church  in  the  world  like 
to  our  Hagia  Sophia !  No  dwelling  like  the  '  Sacred  Pal- 
ace '  of  our  Emperor !  No  river  fairer  than  the  blue  Bos- 
phorus !  Ours  are  all  the  trophies  of  the  art  of  Greece  at 
her  prime  ;  ours  the  books  preserving  the  ancient  learning  ; 
the  speech  of  Plato,  of  Demosthenes,  so  unlike  this  Prankish 
magpies'  chatter  !  Do  you  not  long  to  be  back  ?  I  shall  be 
recalled.  You  will  be  again  a  great  lady  at  Constantinople  ; 
marry  some  ' pan-sebastos]  or  perhaps  the  heir  of  the  purple 
buskins  himself."  Mary  was  silent;  the  old  man  contin- 
ued :  "  No  reply  ?  I  know  your  thoughts.  You  are  half  a 
Frank  and  love  them  better :  better  to  watch  these  mad 
knights  at  tourney  than  read  Polybius  with  the  Princess 
Anna  ? " 

"Yes,  my  father,"  was  the  simple  reply;  "we  have 
glory,  art,  learning,  a  name  never  to  die.  But  the  future 
is  with  these  Franks  —  so  boisterous,  so  brutish !  For 
high  resolve  and  higher  action  make  people  great,  not 
gazing  at  statues,  and  reading  of  brave  deeds  done  of 
old." 

More  silence  save  for  the  bulbuls  and  the  fountain. 

"  Daughter  mine,"  replied  the  Caesar,  "  you  say  well 
We  have  fought  a  good  fight,  —  we  of  the  Rome  by  the 
Bosphorus :  we  have  flung  back  Avar  and  Arab.  The 
Turks  press  hard,  yet  we  may  hold  them  at  bay  a  little 
longer ;  but  our  race  is  indeed  grown  old,  and  our  glory, 
too.  And  you  love  the  West  ?  What  wonder !  your  mother 
spoke  this  Languedoc  in  which  this  De  Valmont  sings. 
And  doubtless  you  will  give  your  hand  to  him ;  men  say 
he  is  a  mighty  cavalier ;  as  his  wife  you  will  be  a  great 
lady  among  these  Franks." 

"  Father  !  "  cried  out  Mary,  in  protest. 

"  No,"  said  the  Greek,  still  smiling,  "  I  will  not  give  you 
away  against  your  will.  If  not  he,  whom  ?  Does  the 
Moslem  Iftikhar  find  favor?  Religion  sits  light  in  this 
strange  Sicily." 

But  Mary  shook  her  head  angrily. 

"  Ah,  then  you  perhaps  were  glad  when  young  Richard 


62  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

of  Cefalu'came  to-day.  But  he  is  no  poet  like  De  Valmont. 
His  manners  may  prove  as  rough  as  his  blows." 

"  I  will  not  give  myself  to  a  chamberlain  or  a  trouba- 
dour. Shall  I  receive  cansos  when  my  hair  is  gray,  or  my 
face  wrinkled  ?  If  I  wish  soft  manners,  let  it  be  one  of 
the  eunuch-courtiers  about  the  Emperor's  palace." 

The  Caesar  laughed  softly.  "  You  have  seen  this  Rich- 
ard but  little ;  he  saved  us  both ;  we  owe  him  all  gratitude. 
He  shall  come  often.  I  am  a  shrewd  judge  of  men,  and 
read  their  faces.  His  I  like  well.  Just  now  he  thinks 
De  Valmont  has  you  snared,  and  is  very  sorrowful.  But 
no  trial  harms  the  lover.  To-day  he  worships  your  face, 
as  do  all.  Later  let  us  see  if  he  looks  deeper,  and  loves 
you  with  all  your  faults !  " 

"  My  faults  ? " 

"  Yes,"  with  another  soft  laugh,  "  you  are  over-fond  of 
the  applause,  and  glitter,  and  whir  of  admiration.  Y6u 
know  your  face  is  very  fair  to  see,  and  love  to  let  men  see 
it.  And  though  in  action  you  are  often  prudent  and  de- 
mure, yet  —  as  on  that  night  at  Cef alu  —  you  are  like  a 
coiled  spring,  —  such  as  moves  the  singing  bird  of  the 
Emperor:  one  touch  will  make  you  flash  forth  in  some 
madness.  But  beneath  all  I  know  you  are  pure  and  strong, 
and  will  make  a  noble  woman." 

"You  temper  praise  with  blame,  my  father,"  was  her 
answer. 

"  Now  let  me  sup  and  go  to  rest ;  and  while  I  drink, 
take  your  lute  and  sing.  Not  from  the  choruses  of 
^Eschylus ;  nor  Pindar  nor  Anacreon :  sing  me  Proclus's 
hymn  to  the  Muses,  the  last  pagan  poem  in  our  Greek, 
which  is  worthy  to  stand  beside  our  best ;  and  the  bur- 
den of  the  hymn,  too,  fits  with  my  mood  to-night." 

So  Mary  took  up  the  lute,  let  her  fingers  wander  over 
the  strings,  and  then,  while  the  fountain  babbled  accom- 
paniment, sang  sweet  as  a  silver  bell :  — 

"  Glory  and  praise  to  those  sweet  lamps  of  Earth, 

The  nine  fair  daughters  of  Almighty  Jove  : 
Who  all  the  passage  dark  to  death  from  birth 

Lead  wandering  souls  with  their  bright  beams  of  love. 


63 

"  Through  cares  of  mortal  life,  through  pain  and  woe, 

The  tender  solace  of  their  counsel  saves  : 
The  healing  secrets  of  their  songs  forego 
Despair :  and  when  we  tremble  at  the  waves 

"  Of  life's  wild  sea  of  murk  incertitude, 

Their  gentle  touch  upon  the  helm  is  pressed, 
Their  hand  points  out  the  beacon  star  of  good, 
Where  we  shall  make  our  harbor  and  have  rest  :  — 

"  Hear,  heavenly  Sisters,  hear  !  O  ye  who  know 

The  winds  of  wisdom's  sea,  the  course  to  steer ; 
Who  light  the  flame  that  lightens  all  below, 
And  bring  the  spirits  of  the  perfect  there, 

"  Where  the  immortals  are,  when  this  life's  fever 

Is  left  behind  as  a  dread  gulf  o'erpassed, 
And  souls,  like  mariners,  escaped  forever, 

Throng  on  the  happy  foreland,  saved  at  last  ! " 

The  lute  was  still.  Naught  but  the  plash,  plash  of  the 
fountain,  the  distant  call  of  the  birds.  In  through  the 
marble  tracery  stole  the  silent  panels  of  moonlight.  Man- 
uel Kurkuas  sat  long  in  deeper  revery  :  — 

"  'Throng  on  the  happy  foreland,  saved  at  last ! '  "  he  mur- 
mured; "ah!  daughter  mine,  it  is  late:  we  must  seek  rest." 


CHAPTER  VI 

HOW    ROLLO    MET    INSULT 

ON  the  next  day  Richard  rode  again  to  Monreale,  this 
time  without  Musa.  But  on  the  way,  just  as  his  horse 
brought  him  clear  of  the  city,  and  he  was  speeding  past 
the  straggling  Saracen  village  that  stretched  far  up  the 
hills  to  Baidha,  the  canter  of  two  riders  going  at  a  mad 
pace  thundered  behind  him,  and  he  saw  Louis  de  Valmont 
with  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  close  at  his  heels.  The  Provencal 
knight  was  bravely  accoutred 'with  silk  mantle  and  boots  of 
the  latest  fashion,  and  was  bestriding  a  splendid  white  pal- 
frey that  made  Richard  shiver  the  tenth  commandment 
then  and  there.  The  emir  was  no  less  gay  in  flaming 
scarlet  vest,  and  trailing  to  the  wind  a  red  and  yellow 
kaftan ;  while  on  his  head  tossed  a  great  blue  turban, 
whereon  the  gems  were  sparkling.  Clearly  the  two  had 
set  forth  independently,  and  had  no  mind  for  comrade- 
ship ;  for  Richard  soon  learned  that  Iftikhar  had  put  his 
horse  to  his  speed  to  outstrip  De  Valmont,  and  the  latter 
had  ridden  away  from  him.  When  the  Provencal  drew 
close  upon  Richard,  however,  the  Norman,  nowise  anxious 
to  be  the  last,  spurred  on  also,  and  soon  all  three  were  in 
the  race  ;  which  ended  by  De  Valmont  shooting  ahead,  and 
leaving  the  others  side  by  side.  As  the  knight  vanished 
in  a  cloud  of  dust,  Iftikhar  reined  in  his  good  bay,  and 
turned  to  Longsword. 

"  He  passes  us  both,  Cid  Richard,"  quoth  the  emir, 
showing  his  white  teeth,  while  he  laughed. 

"  Truly,  emir,"  was  the  answer,  "  they  say  there  is  no 
rider  like  him  in  all  the  South  Country." 

The  Egyptian  grinned  again,  a  little  angrily. 

64 


HOW  ROLLO   MET  INSULT  65 

"  Wallah  !  Let  him  go.  I  will  reach  Monreale  soon 
enough.  Not  even  Louis  de  Valmont  shall  cross  my  path 
save  when  I  choose ;  neither  he  nor  any  other." 

"  You  wax  bold,  my  lord.  And  may  I  ask  why  you 
speak  thus  ?  Surely,  it  is  no  wound  to  your  honor  or  mine 
that  he  chances  to-day  to  outride  us  both." 

Iftikhar  laughed  aloud,  was  silent  a  moment,  then  broke 
forth. 

"Verily,  Cid  Richard,  why  ride  we  all,  you,  I,  De  Val- 
mont, to  Monreale  !  Ya  !  do  you  still  ask  why  I  say  '  let 
none  cross  me  '  ?  " 

Richard's  hand  started  towards  his  hilt. 

"  My  Lord  Iftikhar,  we  all  seek  the  good  favor  of  that 
incomparable  lady,  Mary  Kurkuas." 

The  Egyptian's  hand  was  on  his  cimeter  also.  "  You 
speak  well,"  came  back  his  haughty  answer ;  "but  I  speak 
to  a  young  cavalier  like  yourself  this  word  of  warning  — 
do  not  carry  your  passion  too  far.  As  for  De  Valmont, 
let  him  know  this,  good  lance  that  he  is :  I  am  as  sure  a 
saddle  as  he,  and  I  am  more."  Iftikhar  leaned,  as  he  rode, 
and  half  whispered  to  Richard,  "  Do  you  know  the  brother- 
hood of  the  Ismaelians  ?  " 

"  The  secret  confederacy  among  Moslems,  whose  god  is 
the  dagger? " 

Iftikhar  spoke  very  low  :  "  Know,  O  Norman,  that  I  am 
a  grand  prior  amongst  the  Ismaelians.  Soon  as  Allah  wills, 
I  return  to  Syria.  At  my  nod  will  be  countless  devotees, 
who  rush  on  death  as  to  a  feast.  Therefore  I  am  not 
lightly  to  be  thwarted  by  De  Valmont  even.  Ya  f" 

And  the  emir  laughed  grimly.  Richard  kept  silence,  but 
swore  in  his  heart  that  laugh  should  be  like  Roland's  laugh 
at  Ganelon,  —  a  laugh  that  cost  Roland  his  life. 

When  they  came  to  the  Palace  of  the  Diadem,  De 
Valmont  was  there  before  them,  and  had  the  lady's  ear. 
He  was  telling  of  a  marvellous  hunting  party  that  was  on 
foot  for  the  morrow,  and  how  Count  Roger's  daughter,  the 
young  Countess  Blanche,  had  especially  bidden  him  to 
ride  with  the  princess  to  the  chase.  And  Richard,  and 
Iftikhar  also,  had  perforce  to  stand  by,  while  Mary  gave 


66  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

the  Provencal  her  sweetest  thanks,  and  promised  him  her 
glove  to  wear  at  the  next  jousting. 

Sorry  comfort  it  was  to  Longsword,  especially  as  the 
princess  gave  him  and  the  emir  only  enough  of  the  talk  to 
let  them  know  she  remembered  they  were  there.  As  for 
Iftikhar,  black  jealousy  drove  him  forth  quickly.  He 
salaamed  himself  away,  and  went  tearing  down  the  road 
to  Palermo,  uttering  invocations  to  all  the  evil  jinns,  to 
blast  Louis  de  Valmont's  happiness  for  many  a  long  year. 
But  Richard  would  not  own  to  such  defeat ;  while  Louis  and 
Mary  bartered  merry  small  talk,  he  sat  beside  the  old  Caesar, 
and  found  in  the  noble  Greek,  after  the  crust  of  dignity 
was  broken,  a  man  of  the  world  who  could  tell  his  story. 

And  Richard  found  that  Manuel  had  been  a  mighty 
warrior  in  his  youth,  though  not  after  the  Norman  fashion. 
Richard  learned  with  wonder  how  armies  were  marshalled 
according  to  careful  rules  in  the  military  books  of  Nice- 
phorus  Phocus  and  Leo  the  Wise  ;  how  campaigns  could  be 
worked  out,  and  armies  shuffled  about  dexterously  as  chess- 
men, instead  of  depending  on  chance  melees  and  bull 
valor.  The  Caesar  had  stirring  tales  to  tell  of  wars  and 
paladins  Richard  had  never  before  heard  of,  —  Zimiskes 
and  his  terrible  fight  with  Swiatoslaf  the  Russian,  when 
St.  Theodore  himself,  men  said,  led  the  charge  through 
the  pagan  spear-hedge ;  of  Basil,  the  terrible  "  Bulgarian 
slayer";  of  the  redoubtable  champion,  Diginis  Akritas, 
grim  lord  of  the  Cilician  Marches,  the  terror  of  the  border 
Arabs ;  only  Manuel's  face  clouded  when  he  spoke  of  the 
present  darkened  fame  of  his  people. 

"  I  was  with  Romanus  Diogenes,"  said  he,  bitterly,  "at 
Manzikert,  that  fatal  day  when  by  the  treachery  of  An- 
dronicus,  general  of  the  reserve,  our  Emperor  and  all 
Asia  Minor  were  betrayed  to  Alp-Arslan  the  Seljouk. 
Oh!  Sir  Frank  —  "and  his  dim  eyes  lighted,  "never  saw 
I  harder  fight  than  that :  all  that  mortal  men  might,  did 
we,  riding  down  the  Turkish  hordes  with  sword  and  lance 
all  day.  But  at  nightfall  we  were  surrounded,  and  the 
hosts  rolled  in  around  us.  Treason  had  cut  off  our  succor. 
Our  divisions  perished ;  our  emperor  was  a  prisoner ;  and 


HOW  ROLLO   MET   INSULT  67 

the  force  that  Alexius  Comnenus  led  against  you  Normans 
at  Durazzo  was  a  shadow,  a  mockery,  of  what  had  been 
our  army  in^the  days  when  the  Kalif  of  Bagdad  trembled 
at  the  advance  of  the  terrible  Romans  !  " 

When  Richard  left  the  palace*  it  was  in  company  with 
Louis  de  Valmont.  Mary  had  been  very  gracious  to  the 
Norman  in  parting,  and  Manuel  had  urged  him  to  come 
again.  He  was  an  old  man,  time  was  heavy  on  his  hands ; 
he  was  rejoiced  to  tell  his  tales  to  whoever  would  listen. 
But  it  was  Louis  who  had  the  last  word  with  the  princess, 
Louis  who  whispered  at  the  farewell  some  soft  pleasantry 
that  had  a  deeper  ring  than  the  common  troubadour's 
praise  and  compliment.  Longsword  and  the  Provencal 
rode  back  towards  Palermo  side  by  side.  De  Valmont 
was  in  a  happy  enough  mood  to  be  very  gracious. 

"  Heir  of  Cefalu,"  said  he,  while  they  cantered  stirrup  to 
stirrup,  "  I  did  wrong  yesterday.  I  thought  you  sought 
to  cross  me  in  a  quest  —  what  shame  for  me  to  avow  it  — 
after  the  hand  of  this  lady.  But  to-day  by  your  discreet 
carriage  I  see  you  have  no  such  rashness.  Who  can  but 
fall  at  the  princess's  feet,  and  sigh  with  passion !  And 
her  father,  though  a  Greek,  must  have  been  a  fine  man 
once  in  the  saddle." 

The  Provencal's  words  were  like  flint  striking  steel ; 
Richard  replied  very  slowly,  sure  warning  that  fire  was 
near  at  hand. 

"  Sir  Louis  de  Valmont,  with  our  eyes  on  the  lady,  no 
marvel  we  possess  only  one  thought.  Yet  not  I  only,  but 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh  may  cry  '  Hold  !  '  ere  you  carry  this  fair 
game  to  an  end.  The  emir  this  day  boasted  to  me  he  was 
become  grand  prior  of  the  Ismaelians,  the  devotees  of  the 
dagger,  and  that  not  even  so  good  a  lance  as  you  might  cross 
his  road  when  he  minded  otherwise." 

The  knight  frowned  blackly. 

"  The  emir  and  I  are  friends  no  longer.  The  princess 
may  love  the  gems  in  his  turban,  his  Arabic  verses;  but 
not  even  here  in  Sicily  will  she  wed  an  infidel.  He  has 
more  than  one  woman  in  his  harem  in  the  city.  Over  his 
devotees  and  his  own  lance  I  lose  little  slumber." 


68  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"You  say  well,  fair  sir,"  said  Richard;  "yet  honor  for- 
bids me  to  conceal  it.  I  think  you  will  not  take  Mary 
Kurkuas  to  the  priest  before  you  have  tried  the  temper  of 
my  sword,  though  Iftikhar  do  what  he  lists." 

"  Take  care,  my  brave  lad  !  "  cried  the  Provencal,  drop- 
ping his  jaw  in  a  sneer.  "  I  wish  to  splinter  no  lances 
against  such  as  you." 

"  By  St.  Michael,  I  sweai1  it ;  aye,  and  will  make  it  good 
on  my  body !  "  And  Richard  raised  his  hand  in  an  oath. 

"  Fie  !  "  cried  the  other,  pricking  ahead.  "  In  the  morn- 
ing you  will  repent  of  this  folly.  I  can  win  no  glory  in  a 
broil  with  you  ;  which,  if  I  follow  up,  will  end  with  your 
funeral  mass." 

And  before  Richard  could  make  reply  De  Valmont's 
white  palfrey  had  swept  far  in  advance,  leaving  the  Nor- 
man with  only  his  raging  thoughts  for  company.  In  this 
state  he  rode  into  the  town,  seeking  the  house  of  Al-Bakri. 
But  close  by  the  door  a  noisy  crowd  was  swelling :  Pisan 
sailors,  Greek  peasants  come  to  market,  Moslem  serving- 
lads,  and  chief  of  all  several  men-at-arms  in  leather  jerkins 
and  steel  caps,  all  howling  and  shouting  in  half  a  dozen 
tongues,  and  making  the  narrow  street  and  bare  gray  house- 
walls  ring  with  their  clamors. 

"  A  hair,  a  hair  of  the  wonderful  horse  of  Cefalu !  "  was 
braying  one  of  the  men-at-arms  in  the  very  centre  of  the 
throng.  "  Pull  out  his  tail ;  let  him  drag  a  cart !  What 
knight  ever  rode  such  a  destrerf  And  this  is  the  best- 
loved  steed  of  my  Lord  Richard!  Like  master,  like 
horse  !  "  While  others  shouted :  "  Give  up  the  fellow  ! 
He  is  ours !  We  claim  him  for  our  master,  Louis  de 
Valmont.  What  need  has  your  Lord  Richard  of  a  jongleur 
—  mountebank  himself?" 

And  then  in  the  midst  of  the  press,  Longsword  saw  his 
old  retainer  Herbert,  sitting  upon  Rollo  ;  perched  behind 
on  the  great  steed  a  small,  scared-looking  man,  with 
the  little  bright  eyes  and  peaked  nose  of  a  mouse ;  with 
a  strange  dress  of  blue  and  red  stripes,  and  hugging  a 
great  viol  under  his  arm.  So  far  the  crowd  had  confined 
itself  to  noise ;  but  it  was  pressing  so  madly  around  the 


HOW  ROLLO   MET  INSULT  69 

entrance  to  the  court,  that  the  porter  had  hesitated  to 
throw  open  the  gate  lest  the  mob  press  in  with  the 
rider.  There  was  an  angry  glint  in  Herbert's  eyes  ;  and 
the  veteran  had  his  fingers  round  his  hilt  with  the  blade 
half  drawn,  while  Rollo  had  tossed  up  his  great  black 
head,  and  was  snuffing  and  pawing  as  if  his  hoofs  were 
ready  to  fly  out  on  his  besetters. 

"  A  thousand  fiends !  "  cried  Richard,  pushing  into  the 
throng,  "  what  have  we  here !  Dogs,  devils,  back  all  of 
you  !  "  And  he  struck  right  and  left  with  his  riding  whip, 
making  a  red  scar  on  more  than  one  swarthy  cheek. 
"  Out  of  the  way,  rascals,  or  your  heads  pay  for  it! " 

There  was  no  resisting  this  menace.  Rollo  himself  had 
struck  out  with  his  mighty  hoofs,  and  a  sailor  went  down 
upon  the  pavement  with  a  groan.  The  crowd  slunk  back, 
cursing  and  threatening  under  breath ;  but  no  man  wished 
to  come  to  an  issue  with  his  betters. 

"Now,  Herbert,"  cried  the  Norman,  "what  means 
this  ?  Has  Satan  uncovered  the  Pit,  and  his  imps  flown 
out  ?  Who  is  this  man  with  you  ?  " 

"  May  all  the  saints  blast  them !  "  and  here  the  veteran 
doomed  all  his  assailants  to  pitiless  and  eternal  torment. 
"  To  be  brief,  good  lord,  this  man  is  by  name  Theroulde, 
a  right  good  fellow ;  as  you  see  by  his  viol,  a  jongleur. 
Before  your  father  fled  England,  I  knew  him  well,  when 
we  both  were  younger.  I  found  him  as  I  rode  by  the 
quay,  landed  from  a  Pisan  merchantman,  and  seeking  to 
escape  the  men-at-arms  of  Louis  de  Valmont,  who,  seeing 
him  a  stranger  and  likely  to  prove  a  merry  fellow,  wished 
to  carry  him  to  the  castle,  willy-nilly,  to  give  them  sport 
over  their  cups ;  and  this  sailor  gang  fell  in  with  them. 
Then  when  I  saw  that  he  did  not  like  their  greeting,  and 
that  he  recognized  me  as  an  old  comrade,  I  took  him  up 
behind  me,  and  rode  away ;  but  this  pack,"  with  a  con- 
temptuous snap  of  the  finger,  "travelled  behind  us  like 
the  curs  they  are ;  and  I  think  they  would  have  learned 
how  my  sword  could  bite,  had  you  not  come  up." 

"Theroulde?  Theroulde?"  repeated  Richard  to  the  jon- 
gleur, who  had  leaped  to  the  ground  and  stood  bowing  and 


70  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

scraping,  but  still  hugging  his  beloved  viol ;  "  are  you  not 
son  of  that  Taillefer,  the  brave  minstrel  to  whom  Duke 
William  granted  that  he  should  ride  first  at  Senlac,  sing- 
ing of  Roland  and  Roncesvalles,  and  who  died  a  cavalier's 
death  that  day  ?  " 

"  I  am  his  son,  gracious  lord,"  said  the  man,  with 
another  bow  and  wide  grimace.  "  I  am  Theroulde  of 
Mount  St.  Michael,  and  well  I  loved  and  served  your 
father  in  the  brave  days  of  the  English  war." 

"  By  the  peacock,"  cried  Longsword,  "  and  what  lucky 
saint  sends  you  to  Sicily,  to  enter  my  father's  service  once 
more,  if  you  will  ?  " 

"Ah!  lord,"  was  the  doleful  answer,  "glad  I  am  to  see 
Sicily ;  but  no  merry  thing  brings  me  hither.  I  was  in  the 
service  of  my  dear  Lord  Henry,  son  of  William  the  Bastard, 
and  dwelt  in  his  court  at  Mount  St.  Michael,  with  a  warm 
nook  by  the  fire  and  a  flagon  of  good  drink  always  mine 
for  the  wishing.  But  three  years  since  I  was  driven  out  an 
exile,  when  William,  the  wicked  '  Red  King,'  and  Duke 
Robert  besieged  Henry  their  brother,  and  took  the  strong- 
hold. So  ever  since  I  have  wandered  over  Champagne 
and  Burgundy  and  the  He  de  France ;  and  then  I  went 
down  to  Aquitaine  and  thence  to  Dauphiny.  But  I  did  not 
learn  to  love  the  chattering  Provencals,  who  think  songs  of 
mawkish  love  better  than  our  northern  chansons  of  valorous 
knights.  Then  I  heard  that  your  noble  father  had  been 
blessed  with  a  fair  barony  here  in  Sicily  ;  and  hither  I  came 
to  seek  his  bounty,  though  I  did  not  expect  to  find  in  his 
son  so  grand  a  cavalier." 

Richard  laughed  a  little  sourly.  Now  he  had  a  new 
grudge  against  Louis  de  Valmont ;  to  the  sins  of  the 
master  had  been  added  those  of  the  men.  A  knight  did 
not  always  as  yet  keep  squires  of  as  gentle  blood  as  him- 
self. De  Valmont's  crew  of  attendants  were  but  little 
better  than  "villains."  The  insults  to  Herbert  and  Rollo 
were  not  to  be  forgiven  in  a  moment.  And  in  this  new 
fury  Richard  rode  into  the  courtyard ;  while  Theroulde, 
delighted  to  be  under  friendly  patronage,  rattled  on,  re- 
hearsing his  wares. 


HOW   ROLLO   MET  INSULT  71 

"  Know,  most  valiant  sir,  that  I  boast  myself  versed  in 
all  the  noble  histories  of  that  wise  Trojan  priest,  Dares, 
and  of  the  rich  Greek  cavalier,  Dictys  of  Crete ;  I  can  tell 
you  all  their  tales  of  Sir  Hector  and  of  Sir  Ulysses  and  of  the 
fair  and  never  too  much  praised  Countess  Medea.  I  have 
set  in  new  verse  the  whole  tale  of  Roland  and  Oliver,  and 
how  Count  Ganelon  betrayed  them ;  and  I  can  tell  you 
the  story  of  Oberon,  king  of  faery,  who  was  begotten  by 
Julius  Caesar  at  the  isle  of  Cephallenia,  while  he  was  at  war 
with  King  Pompey." 

So  he  would  have  run  on  forever  had  not  Richard  thrust 
him  away  and  gone  in  to  Musa,  with  a  face  dark  as  a 
thundercloud.  ^^Q.  jongleur  was  left  to  the  hospitality  of 
the  Moslem  servants  of  Al-Bakri,  who  treated  him  kindly 
though  he  eyed  them  askance;  for  to  his  mind  they  all 
were  servants  of  Apollin,  the  pagan  demon  of  the  sun. 
Presently  a  messenger  went  from  Richard  to  the  castle, 
where  De  Valmont  lay,  bearing  a  letter,  —  a  letter  which 
demanded  of  the  Provencal  that  he  either  inflict  summary 
chastisement  on  his  men  who  had  insulted  Richard  through 
his  favorite  horse,  or  make  good  the  affront  by  a  meeting 
face  to  face. 

Richard  spent  the  next  two  hours  in  the  little  court  of 
the  syndic,  pacing  moodily  under  the  orange  trees  that 
stood  around  the  fountain  basin ;  while  Musa  lolled  on  the 
rugs  upon  the  divan  under  the  arcade,  and  tried  to  persuade 
his  friend  to  sit  down  with  him  at  chess. 

"  By  the  Mass,  Musa,"  cried  the  Norman,  twisting  his 
mustache  with  nervous  energy,  while  his  eyes  studied  the 
black  and  white  tiled  pavement,  "  Moslem  that  you  are, 
I  had  rather  see  Mary  Kurkuas  yours  than  De  Valmont's. 
What  with  all  the  brave  tales  you  tell  of  your  sweethearts 
in  Cordova  and  Granada,  you  must  know  the  way  to  a 
woman's  heart." 

"Allah  /"  exclaimed  the  Spaniard,  taking  a  cushion  from 
the  divan  and  flinging  it  merrily  at  his  friend.  "  Do  you 
not  know,  I  am  like  the  Arab  youth  who  died  fighting 
at  Emesa  ? "  said  he.  "  I  see  the  black-eyed  girls,  the 
houris  looking  at  me ;  and  one  for  love  of  whom  all  the 


72  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

world  would  die,  beckons  me,  saying, '  Come  hither  quickly, 
for  I  love  thee.'  Not  that  I  would  slander  the  beauty  of 
your  Greek  ;  but,"  with  half  a  sigh,  "  he  who  has  seen  the 
maidens  of  Andalusia  can  long  only  for  the  houris  of 
Paradise." 

"  You  speak  folly,"  cried  the  Norman,  pettishly.  "  Where 
are  your  eyes?"  But  at  this  moment  Hugh,  the  serving- 
lad  who  had  gone  to  the  castle  with  the  cartel,  returned. 

"A  letter  from  Sir  Louis  de  Valmont,"  he  announced. 

It  was  a  roll  of  parchment,  written  by  some  priest  or 
monk,  with  only  a  rude  mark  over  the  signature,  in  an- 
other hand;  for  Louis  with  all  his  "gay"  science  was  no 
clerk.  It  ran  thus:  — 

"  Louis  de  Valmont,  Knight  of  Auvergne,  to  Richard 
Longsword,  greeting :  I  am  astounded  that  an  unknighted 
'  bachelor '  like  yourself,  who  has  won  neither  spurs,  nor 
vassals,  nor  fame  in  arms,  should  venture  to  address  me 
with  such  insolence.  As  for  my  men  they  had  their  frolic, 
and  only  a  fool  will  quarrel  about  it.  As  for  your  defiance, 
I  will  win  small  honor  by  slaying  a  boy  like  yourself  in 
the  lists,  as  I  could  well  do,  and  my  honor  is  in  no  wise 
hurt  when  I  say  I  will  not  meet  you.  Farewell." 

Richard  tore  the  parchment  into  shreds  and  strode  to 
and  fro  in  bootless  fury. 

"  By  the  splendor  of  God  !  "  cried  he,  stretching  his  arms 
aloft,  "  the  day  shall  come  when  this  Louis  and  all  the 
spawn  of  his  sinful  house  shall  curse  the  hour  he  sent  me 
this.  So  may  Our  Lady  help !  " 

Musa  could  do  nothing  to  comfort.  Richard  told  his 
trials  to  Sebastian,  just  come  down  from  Cefalu.  And  in 
Sebastian  he  found  a  counsellor  very  like  to  those  of  long- 
tormented  Job. 

"  Ah  !  dear  son,  this  is  because  all  love  is  sorrow  except 
it  be  the  love  of  heaven.  Says  not  the  Apdstle,  '  Love 
not  the  world,  neither  the  things  in  the  world,'— 

"  Not  so,"  broke  in  Richard ;  "  in  loving  Mary  Kurkuas 
I  love  an  angel  of  light." 

Sebastian  shook  his  head  solemnly.  "  Dear  son,  this  is 
a  chastisement  sent  on  you  from  heaven  for  forgetting 


HOW  ROLLO   MET   INSULT  73 

your  vow,  now  that  you  are  come  to  man's  estate.  Often 
have  I  invoked  my  patron  saint,  Sebastian,  by  the  arrows 
that  pierced  his  side,  that  you  would  put  by  all  these  carnal 
lusts,  this  friendship  for  Musa,  the  paynim,  and  dedicate 
life  and  might  to  the  freeing  of  the  Holy  City." 

But  Richard  was  in  an  impious  mood  that  day.  "  I  was 
a  child  when  I  took  the  vow.  Let  the  saints  smite  me,  if 
they  will,  only  first  let  me  humble  De  Valmont !  " 

"  Alas  !  "  came  the  answer,  "  they  will  indeed  smite  you, 
until  in  very  agony  for  your  sin  you  will  plead  to  go  to 
Jerusalem." 


CHAPTER  VII 

HOW   DE   VALMONT   SENT   HIS    GAGE 

RICHARD'S  fury  lasted  more  than  one  angry  day,  Musa's 
comforting  counting  for  nothing.  Sebastian's  warnings  — 
twanging  the  same  old  string  —  only  made  his  rage  the 
hotter.  He  wrote  to  Cefalu,  saying  it  was  all  over  with 
his  suit,  and  received  a  letter  dictated  by  his  father  (who 
wrote  only  with  his  battle-axe)  that  it  was  as  well ;  he 
could  marry  a  daughter  of  the  Baron's  old  friend,  the 
Count  of  Foix.  William  had  not  seen  her,  but  she  would 
bring  a  large  dowry,  and  a  messenger  could  sail  with  pro- 
posals for  Toulouse  at  once,  Richard  returned  answer 
that  he  could  not  marry  the  lady  —  she  came  within  the 
forbidden  degrees  through  some  ancient  alliance  of  his 
mother's  house  with  that  of  Foix.  But  his  heart  burned 
more  than  ever.  Then  respite  came :  Count  Roger  was 
summoned  to  Campania  by  his  nephew  and  suzerain  Duke 
Roger  Bursa,  to  help  crush  certain  malcontent  barons,  and 
away  he  sailed,  taking  Iftikhar  and  his  much-prized  Sara- 
cen guard.  With  him  also  went  Musa  and  Richard  Long- 
sword,  who  was  finding  Palermo  a  dreary  place,  and  gladly 
bartered  gloomy  thoughts  for  hard  campaigning. 

Louis  de  Valmont  remained.  Every  morn  he  fared  to 
Monreale  to  bask  under  the  smiles  of  Mary.  Very  pleas- 
ant these  days  to  her.  As  Manuel  had  said,  she  was  more 
than  fond  of  the  praise  of  men ;  knew  her  eyes  darted 
madness,  and  was  not  ashamed  to  show  them.  Palermo 
was  not  Constantinople;  no  polished  Greek  as  spoken  in  the 
circle  of  Psellus,  the  philosopher,  and  of  Anna  Comnena; 
no  splendid  state  ceremonies.  But  life  was  free ;  men 
spoke  of  their  loves  and  hates  plainly ;  did  not  prattle 
friendship  and  misty  compliment  and  stab  in  the  dark. 

74 


HOW  DE  VALMONT   SENT   HIS  GAGE  75 

Yet  in  the  end  Louis's  homage  began  to  pall  on  her. 
She  heard  unpleasant  stories  touching  him  through  Syl- 
vana,  her  nurse,  an  indefatigable  gossip-monger.  The 
Provencal,  she  learned,  was  accounted  a  hard  master  to 
his  men ;  his  peers  praised  his  courage,  but  not  his  cour- 
tesy ;  he  had  fought  a  duel  in  Catalonia  with  a  baron,  in 
a  broil  concerning  the  latter's  lady ;  he  had  two  Moslem 
sweethearts  in  Palermo ;  some  said  three.  All  these  tales 
did  not  go  to  prosper  Louis's  suit,  and  he  began  to  find 
the  morning  chatter  growing  dull  and  the  princess  meet- 
ing his  cansos  with  sober  and  troublesome  questions. 

Manuel  Kurkuas  said  little ;  he  was  a  shrewd  man,  and 
knew  it  was  easier  to  lead  than  to  drive.  What  with 
De  Valmont's  Hollow  gallantry  and  boasting  of  his  own 
great  deeds,  he  fell  daily  in  the  daughter's  eyes.  Then 
one  day  two  carrier  pigeons  fluttered  to  the  casements  of 
the  Palermo  castle,  and  Sylvana  came  to  Mary  itching 
with  a  tale.  The  princess  had  just  bidden  Louis  farewell. 
His  importunity  was  great,  her  perplexity  greater;  for  she 
did  not  love  the  man,  yet  things  had  gone  too  far  for  her  to 
dismiss  him  without  bitterness  and  gossip  all  over  the  city. 

" Hei,  despoina!"  quoth  the  old  woman;  "Bardas,  the 
groom,  is  come  from  Palermo  —  a  terrible  story.  Richard 
Longsword  in  deathly  peril !  "  And  Sylvana,  sly  sinner, 
who  knew  Mary  better  than  Mary  knew  herself,  had 
expected  the  start,  and  flush,  and  little  cry.  "  No,  by 
St.  Basil,  he  is  safe  enough,"  protested  she,  consequen- 
tially. "  He  was  with  Count  Roger  in  Italy  in  the  war 
against  William  of  Grantmesnil,  who  has  turned  rebel. 
Let  him  tell  the  whole  tale  himself.  But  the  chief  part 
is  this :  There  was  a  castle  which  my  Lord  Count  and  his 
kinsman,  Duke  Roger  Bursa,  swore  they  would  take,  but 
it  was  defended  as  though  held  by  very  devils.  The  en- 
gines beat  a  breach  in  the  walls,  and  the  next  thing  was 
the  storming.  But  to  make  the  breach  and  to  go  through 
it  are  not  the  same  thing,  as  Nicetas,  who  was  my  uncle's 
son,  and  fought  in  Syria,  once  told." 

"  I  have  heard  that  story,"  cried  the  lady,  impatiently ; 
"goon." 


76  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

"  Well,  as  I  said,  the  breach  was  stoutly  defended.  My 
Lord  Count  orders  up  his  boasted  Saracen  guard,  and 
bids  my  Lord  Iftikhar  lead  the  storm :  once,  twice,  they 
charge  —  are  beaten  back  —  the  third  time  when  ordered, 
say  they  are  not  fond  of  dying  —  too  many  comrades  are 
fallen  already.  Then  while  the  emir  hung  back,  forward 
comes  my  Lord  Richard  and  Musa,  his  friend ;  they  will 
lead  the  storm.  A  few  mad  Franks  follow  them.  They 
win  the  breach  and  the  castle.  St.  Theodore  must  have 
aided.  They  say  my  Lord  Richard  had  as  many  wounds 
as  you  have  fingers,  when  they  took  him  up.  No,  do 
not  stare  about  thus :  Bardas  said  he  only  lost  a  little 
blood.  But  they  have  made  him  a  knight  after  the 
fashion  of  these  Franks,  by  Duke  Roger's  own  hand ; 
and  to  Musa  they  gave  I  know  not  what  presents. 
And  now  seeing  that  the  rebels  have  sued  for  mercy, 
the  Count  is  coming  back  with  all  his  men,  and  sent  off 
pigeons  from  Stromboli  saying  that  he  will  arrive  to- 
morrow." 

To-morrow  came  and  went,  and  De  Valmont  held  aloof, 
half  to  Mary's  satisfaction,  half  to  her  vexation.  Nor  did 
several  succeeding  days  see  him.  But  finally  it  fell  out 
that  he  and  his  rival  sallied  forth  from  Palermo  by  differ- 
ent roads,  and  both  came  to  Monreale  and  into  the  Prin- 
cess's presence  at  about  the  same  time.  And  now  it  was 
Louis's  turn  to  let  his  sharp  little  beard  curl  up  in  impo- 
tent anger.  For  Mary  gave  never  a  glance  to  his  high- 
peaked  Anjou  boots  with  which  he  swelled  in  pride,  but 
only  had  eyes  for  the  golden  spurs  that  were  twinkling 
significantly  upon  Longsword's  heels,  and  the  broad  white 
belt  that  girt  him. 

"  Ah !  Sir  Richard,"  cried  she,  with  a  pretty  stress  on 
the  •"  sir,"  "  now  at  last  you  will  not  deny  that  you  can  do 
a  brave  deed  or  two  !  " 

The  Norman  blushed  manfully  ;  for  praise  from  her  lips 
was  dearer  than  from  Pope  or  Emperor. 

"Dear  lady,"  said  he,  humbly,  "thanks  to  the  valor  of 
my  good  comrades,  and  the  help  of  the  blessed  angel 
Michael,  men  are  pleased  to  speak  well  of  me." 


HOW   DE  VALMONT  SENT  HIS   GAGE  77 

"And  the  sword  you  wear,"  continued  she,  "it  is  not  the 
one  I  saw  glance  so  bright  at  Cefalu.  Who  gave  it  ?  " 
And  she  added,  while  Richard  drew  forth  the  weapon : 
"How  long  !  How  heavy !  What  magic  letters  are  these 
upon  the  blade  ? " 

Richard  had  bared  a  mighty  weapon,  which  he  held  out- 
stretched while  the  sun  glinted  on  the  long,  polished  steel, 
and  the  gold  chased  work  on  the  guard  shone  bright. 

"Know,"  he  said  proudly,  "that  from  this  weapon  we 
Longswords  take  our  name.  This  is  'Trenchefer,'  passed 
from  father  to  son,  so  far  as  memory  may  reach  to  the 
days  when  our  house  came  down  from  the  Northland  with 
Duke  Rollo,  and  hewed  away  our  duchy  from  the  weak- 
ling Emperor.  Never  has  a  Longsword  carried  this  blade 
and  endured  captivity.  Never  has  a  hostile  hand  gripped 
its  hilt ;  never  has  a  first-born  of  my  race  "  —  Richard  held 
his  head  still  higher  —  "  lacked  a  first-born  who  could  not 
toss  it  like  a  twig."  And  he  brandished  the  great  gleam- 
ing blade  on  high.  "  As  for  these  strange  characters,  they 
say  they  are  an  incantation,  pagan  no  doubt,  but  it  still 
holds  good :  a  rune-song,  they  call  it,  which  makes 
Trenchefer  cut  iron  like  wool  and  steel  like  fagots. 
Here  in  the  hilt  is  the  reliquary,  set  there  by  my  pious 
grandfather  to  destroy  the  sin  of  the  spell,  and  make  it 
stronger ;  here  is  a  tooth  of  St.  Matthias,  and  a  clot  of 
the  blood  of  St.  Gereon  the  Martyr.  All  his  life  my  father 
has  borne  this,  and  never  yet  has  Trenchefer  failed  in  the 
sorest  need.  Now  that  my  father  is  old,  and  I  a  belted 
knight,  I  have  taken  Trenchefer  to  bear  until  my  own  first- 
born can  wield  it  worthily." 

Mary  stepped  beside  him,  took  the  hilt  in  both  her  little 
hands,  and  made  shift  to  raise  the  great  sword.  It  was 
very  heavy.  The  blood  mounted  to  her  cheeks ;  she 
smiled,  but  bit  her  lips,  and  made  a  mighty  effort.  Once 
she  raised  the  blade,  then  dropped  it  with  a  clang,  and 
laughed  merrily. 

"  Eu  !  Sir  Richard,"  she  cried  in  Greek,  "  what  a  pretty 
toy  for  a  maid  like  myself  !  I  will  let  you  always  swing  it 
for  me." 


78  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  It  is  not  heavy,"  quoth  the  Norman,  his  iron  wrist  toss- 
ing it  lightly. 

"  Not  heavy  !  "  was  the  reply.  "  You  Franks  are  born, 
I  half  think,  in  armor ;  slaying  is  to  you  a  pleasant  art." 

"And  why  not,  sweet  lady?"  answered  the  other,  seri- 
ously. "  Is  there  anything  better  befitting  a  brave  gentle- 
man, after  a  noble  life,  than  to  be  rocked  to  sleep  in  a  fair 
battle  with  the  swords  clinking  merry  music  above,  and 
angels  to  convoy  his  soul  ? " 

But  at  this  moment  De  Valmont,  who  had  stood  by 
gnawing  his  mustachios  all  this  while,  stepped  up  and 
took  the  sword  out  of  Richard's  hand. 

"Assuredly,  Sir  Richard,"  said  he,  holding  up  the  sword, 
though  truth  to  tell  he  found  it  nothing  easy,  "  you  have 
here  a  mighty  weapon.  You  will  be  the  thirteenth  of 
Charlemagne's  twelve  peers,  and  contest  the  captaincy 
with  Roland's  self."  He  sheathed  the  sword,  and  laughed 
dryly. 

There  was  no  need  for  any  special  wits  to  see  that  Louis 
was  seeking  a  quarrel  at  last. 

"  I  trust  it  will  be  found  keen  enough  to  satisfy  any  who 
question  now  my  knighthood,"  came  back  the  hot  retort. 
But  Mary  intervened  with  haughty  mandate :  — 

"  Sir  Louis  !  Sir  Richard  !  what  is  this  in  my  presence  ? 
How  often  have  I  bidden  you  be  friends,  if  you  would 
keep  my  favor !  Must  you  brawl  under  my  very  eyes  ?  " 

"  I  cry  pardon  of  Sir  Richard,"  began  the  Provencal, 
feeling  he  had  made  a  misstep ;  but  Longsword  cut  him 
short. 

"  And  I  grant  none ;  but  this  is  no  place.  Let  us  be- 
gone ! " 

"I  warn  you!"  cried  De  Valmont,  in  black  fury,  "if 
we  meet,  but  one  shall  ride  away.  Hitherto  you  have 
crossed  swords  with  weaklings,  and  I  give  you  a  proverb, 
'  Amongst  the  blind,  the  one-eyed  man  is  king.'  " 

"  And  I  return  proverb  for  proverb,"  blazed  back  the 
Norman  :  "  '  It  is  well  to  let  the  sleeping  dog  lie.'  Let  God 
judge  if  I  have  sought  this  quarrel !  " 

"  Sirs,"  commanded  Mary  Kurkuas,  with  her  haughtiest 


HOW   DE  VALMONT  SENT   HIS    GAGE  79 

gesture,  "  get  you  gone  both,  nor  return  till  this  strife  be 
ended  !  "  And  she  pointed  towards  the  door. 

Richard  collected  himself  with  a  mighty  effort. 

"  I  obey,  lady,"  was  all  he  said  ;  while  he  bowed,  kissed 
the  hem  of  her  mantle,  and  stalked  out  of  the  palace. 
De  Valmont  did  not  follow  him,  but  stood  staring  darkly 
about,  as  though  wanting  half  his  wits. 

"  Sir  Louis,"  repeated  the  princess,  still  at  her  lordly 
poise,  "  did  you  not  hear  what  I  said  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  Dona!  beautiful  mistress  !  "  cried  the  Provencal, 
half  threatening,  half  entreating  ;  "  what  words  are  these  ? 
Depart?  Will  you  dismiss  me?  By  St.  Martin,  I  swear 
lif e  will  be  all  night  without  you !  Oh,  pity,  favor  me ; 
have  mercy  on  my  distress  !  " 

Mary  looked  upon  him,  and  saw  that  half  his  profession 
sprang  from  his  troubadour  gallantry;  but  the  rest  —  the 
mad  light  in  his  eyes  proved  how  genuine ! 

"Give  me  your  hand!  "  raged  on  De  Valmont,  half  beside 
himself.  Then  with  a  step  nearer  —  "  No,  not  your  hand, 
your  lips !  " 

Mary  flushed  in  turn  with  her  anger ;  quail  she  did  not. 

"  Sir  Louis,  recollect  yourself,"  she  commanded  sternly ; 
"let  what  has  slipped  you  be  forgotten.  I  repeat  —  de- 
part, or  I  call  my  father's  servants ;  and  come  not  again, 
until  your  quarrel  with  Richard  Longsword  be  ended." 

"  Then,  by  Christ's  wounds,  I  will  have  his  life  !  "  roared 
the  Proven9al  with  a  great  oath,  and  tore  out  of  the  room, 
leaving  Mary  quaking  amid  hysteric  laughter. 

When  Manuel  Kurkuas  heard  what  had  passed,  he  grew 
very  grave. 

"  Enemies  they  have  been  since  first  they  met  here  at 
Monreale,"  was  his  comment,  "  and  now  I  fear  they  will 
strike  friendship  only  in  heaven,  unless,"  he  added  dryly, 
"  their  sins  be  such  —  and  they  are  many  —  they  will 
perchance  meet  elsewhere." 

So  his  daughter  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  in  no 
little  trepidation  and  sorrow ;  for  it  was  no  pleasant  thing 
to  feel  that  two  gallant  gentlemen,  for  whom  she  had 
cared  much,  were  to  risk  immortal  souls,  perhaps  on  her 


8o  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

account.  About  noon  the  next  day,  Sylvana  came  to  her 
gleefully  with  the  whole  story. 

"  Ei,  my  lady,"  chattered  she,  "  all  Palermo  is  talking 
of  it,  and  Bardas  has  brought  me  all  they  say.  It  is  told 
that  this  morning  Sir  Richard  went  to  the  Cathedral,  and 
confessed  to  a  priest  and  received  the  host;  then  he  set 
hand  on  a  box  of  holy  relics  and  swore  something  secret, 
but  doubtless  terrible.  A  little  later,  lo !  in  comes  Sir 
Louis  and  does  the  very  same.  Then  right  in  the  porch 
of  the  church  they  came  face  to  face,  and  Sir  Louis  broke 
out  with  revilings  terrible  to  hear,  and  finally  cried,  '  You 
are  not  an  equal  fit  to  kiss  my  cheek  ;  "  villain  "  you  are,  or 
little  better,  who  should  kiss  my  spurs !  '  Whereupon  Sir 
Richard  gave  him  a  great  box  on  the  ear,  which  nearly 
knocked  him  down,  crying,  '  This  is  the  kiss  I  give  you ! ' 
And  then  and  there  they  would  have  drawn,  but  other 
gentlemen  dragged  them  asunder  by  main  force,  and  took 
them  to  Count  Roger,  who,  when  he  found  he  could  not 
compose  their  quarrel,  demanded  of  each  his  knightly  word 
that  they  would  remain  apart  until  the  great  tourney,  which 
will  be  when  the  envoys  from  the  Egyptian  emperor  come. 
Then  the  two  will  meet,  and  Our  Lady  guard  their  lives  !  " 

Mary  Kurkuas  did  not  sleep  soundly  that  night.  Often 
as  the  dreams  came  to  her,  they  took  form  of  champions 
in  armor,  charging,  charging,  ever  charging !  And  when 
she  awoke,  it  was  with  the  last  words  of  De  Valmont  ring- 
ing in  her  ears,  "  By  Christ's  wounds,  I  will  have  his  life !" 
A  long  time  after  all  the  palace  was  still,  she  arose,  lit  a 
taper,  and  knelt  before  a  stiff  little  Byzantine  painting  of 
the  Holy  Mother  that  was  by  her  bedside. 

"  O  pure  and  blessed  Lady,"  she  prayed,  "  have  mercy 
on  me !  Have  mercy  on  them  both !  I  have  sinned  in 
leading  them  on  so  madly ;  they  have  sinned  in  loving 
me  so  madly !  Oh,  pity,  mercy ;  have  compassion  on  us 
all ! " 

So  ran  her  prayer.  After  a  while  she  was  a  little  com- 
forted, and  fell  into  troubled  sleep. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

HOW    IFTIKHAR    SPED    A   VAIN   ARROW 

NEWS  from  over  the  sea,  —  from  Italy  !  News  that  set 
old  Sebastian  declaiming,  and  wandering  about  all  day  with 
a  mad  fire  in  his  eyes  and  a  verse  from  Isaiah  the  prophet 
on  his  lips.  For  it  was  bruited  abroad  that  a  wonderful 
pilgrim  had  come  from  the  East,  Peter  of  Amiens,  once  a 
noble  and  a  warrior,  but  one  who  had  forsworn  the  world 
and  gone  to  the  Holy  City  to  expiate  his  sins.  Now  he  had 
returned,  and  stood  before  Pope  Urban  with  messages  from 
the  down-trodden  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem ;  also  with  a  mar- 
vellous tale,  —  that  Christ  had  appeared  in  vision  to  him, 
and  bidden  him  summon  the  soldiers  of  the  West  to  the 
deliverance  of  the  City  of  God.  And  the  Holy  Father  had 
believed,  and  given  him  letters  bidding  all  men  hear  him 
and  obey.  Nor  was  that  all.  There  was  a  great  council 
of  the  Church  soon  to  convene  at  Plaisance  to  move  all 
Italy  to  go  against  the  infidel;  and  if  Italy  were  too  sunken 
in  her  civil  strifes  and  unknightly  commerce,  the  Pope  had 
sworn  he  would  appeal  to  his  own  people,  the  French  — 
"  bold  cavaliers  so  dear  to  God." 

When  Sebastian  heard  this  tale,  brought  by  a  Genoese, 
he  was  all  eagerness  to  take  the  next  ship  for  Marseilles 
with  Richard.  "  It  was  the  acceptable  day  of  the  Lord ; 
who  was  not  for  Him  was  against  Him:  beware  lest  the 
laggards  endure  the  reproach  of  Deborah  upon  Reuben, 
that  abode  by  his  sheepfold,  and  Dan,  who  remained  in  his 
ships."  But  Richard  only  swelled  with  desire  to  see  De 
Valmont  prone  upon  the  sands ;  and  Musa  smiled  in  his 
soft  manner,  saying,  "  Have  not  you  Franks  broils  enough 
G  81 


82  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

among  yourselves,  that  you  must  seek' Jerusalem  ? "  Where- 
upon Sebastian  had  cried,  "Ah!  Child  of  the  Devil,  you 
seek  to  pluck  away  Richard's  soul;  but  every  night  I  wres- 
tle with  God  in  prayer,  beseeching  God  He  will  sever  this 
unholy  friendship.  And  my  faith  does  not  fail !  " 

Musa  gave  no  answer;  silence  was  the  stoutest  armor 
against  the  churchman. 

Presently  all  thoughts  of  Italy  and  France  were  chased 
from  mind  by  the  coming  of  the  long-awaited  embassy 
from  the  Egyptian  kalif  to  Palermo.  A  great  and  splendid 
embassy  it  was,  headed  by  no  less  a  person  than  Hisham, 
son  of  Afdhal,  vizier  to  the  kalif  Abul  Kasim.  There  were 
long  trains  of  stately  Abyssinian  eunuchs  and  negro 
guardsmen  in  gay  liveries ;  a  mighty  glitter  of  scarlet  and 
purple  caftans,  jewel-decked  turbans,  gold-sheathed  cime- 
ters,  a  present  of  dazzling  gems  for  the  Count  and  the 
Countess.  The  echo  of  the  earthquake  in  France  and 
Italy  had  been  heard  in  Africa,  and  the  kalif  had  been 
anxious  to  forestall  the  joining  of  the  redoubtable  Sicilian 
Count  to  the  Crusade  by  early  display  of  friendship. 
Then,  too,  it  was  told  that  the  kalif  had  especial  love  for 
Count  Roger,  because  in  crushing  the  Sicilian  emirs  he 
had  only  chastised  rebels,  who  had  a  little  earlier  cast  off 
their  fealty  to  the  Cairo  Emperor. 

And  Count  Roger,  bound  to  do  his  guests  full  honor, 
sent  out  his  heralds  over  the  length  and  breadth  of 
Sicily,  proclaiming  a  grand  tournament.  Forth  went  the 
messengers  "  crying  the  tourney,"  till  their  mules  were 
dust-covered  and  their  voices  cracked.  To  the  remotest 
Norman  castle  and  Saracen  village  in  the  mountains  they 
went,  and  man  and  maid  made  ready  their  best,  and  counted 
the  days;  for  the  Count  had  ordered  there  should  be  games 
and  combats  for  Christian  and  Moslem  alike. 

The  days  sped  slowly  for  Mary  Kurkuas.  De  Valmont 
and  Longsword  were  bound  by  pledge  to  Count  Roger  not 
to  wait  on  her  till  after  the  tourney.  Bitterly  Mary  re- 
proached herself  for  her  folly.  Did  not  all  Palermo  know 
how  she  had  given  her  glove  to  De  Valmont  ?  And  Rich- 
ard ?  Why  had  she  held  that  cup  to  his  lips  that  night  at 


HOW  IFTIKHAR  SPED  A  VAIN   ARROW          83 

Cefalu?  Mere  gratitude?  Was  not  that  repaying  her 
preserver  with  more  than  friendship?  And  was  she  not 
willing  to  pay?  Such  her  questions  —  never  answered. 
Poor  little  Countess  Blanche,  Count  Roger's  daughter,  soon 
to  be  exiled  as  given  in  marriage  to  the  king  of  Hungary, 
would  have  laughed  with  glee  to  have  two  such  gallant 
cavaliers  joust  with  her  name  on  their  lips.  But  Mary's 
heart  told  her  that  it  was  very  wrong.  Her  father's  health 
failed  fast ;  she  was  filled  with  foreboding.  Musa  and 
Iftikhar  were  the  only  visitors  at  Monreale  now.  Musa 
was  ever  the  same,  —  gentle,  sweet-voiced,  courtly,  never 
unduly  familiar.  Iftikhar  at  times  swelled  with  a  passion 
that  nearly  betrayed  him ;  but  Mary  was  too  accustomed 
to  ardent  lovers  to  take  alarm.  Yet  at  times,  to  her  dis- 
may, she  saw  he  really  held  that  their  religion  was  no  bar- 
rier between  them,  and  that  he  would  gladly  have  stood  on 
equality  with  Richard  and  De  Valmont.  One  day  it  befell 
that  the  fire  in  the  emir  nearly  flashed  out.  He  had  paid 
a  more  than  commonly  florid  compliment,  and  Mary  twitted 
him. 

"  But  you  Moslems  in  truth  cannot  care  much  for  women, 
for  all  your  verses  and  praise ;  we  are  not  even  granted 
immortal  souls  by  your  law  !  " 

"  Oh,  believe  it  not,"  cried  the  emir,  hotly;  "for  in  Para- 
dise the  true  believer  will  rejoice  in  the  company  of  all  the 
wives  of  his  mortal  state !  " 

"  Yes,"  interposed  Musa,  with  a  soft  laugh.  "  He  will 
if  he  desire  them,  otherwise  not;  and  there  are  many 
husbands  and  many  wives  !  " 

The  princess  saw  the  frown  that  swept  over  the  brow  of 
the  emir  at  this  interference. 

"  Come,  my  lord,"  commanded  she,  pointing  to  the  lute, 
"  you  shall  sing  to  me !  Sing  of  love,  and  mirth,  and 
laughter,  for  I  am  in  a  doleful  mood  to-day." 

But  Iftikhar  only  frowned  the  more. 

"O  Brightness  of  the  Heart!"  he  replied  gloomily,  "I 
too  am  not  merry.  Were  I  to  sing,  it  would  be  Kalif 
Rahdi's  poem,  of  which  the  burden  runs,  '  Man  is  but  the 
child  of  woe ! '  You  would  not  care  for  such  melancholy  ? " 


84  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

i 

"  Assuredly  not,"  laughed  the  lady.  "  Then  you  shall 
play  the  minstrel,  Sir  Musa.  First  you  shall  tell  us  of 
those  wonderful  poets'  gardens  in  your  Spain ;  then  you 
shall  sing  one  of  the  songs  that  win  the  sighs  and  blushes 
in  the  harems  of  Seville  or  Granada."  And  she  held  out 
the  lute. 

Musa  obeyed,  tightened  the  strings,  tinkled  a  few  notes, 
and  said  in  his  musical,  liquid  Arabic :  — 

"  Know,  O  lady,  that  we  Spaniards  are  not  like  the 
Moslems  of  the  East;  we  do  not  hide  our  wives  and 
daughters  in  prison  houses.  To  us  marriage  is  born  of 
true  love,  and  he  who  would  win  love  must  be  a  poet ; 
therefore  all  Andalusians  are  poets.  Would  you  hear  of 
the  wooing  of  my  mother  ?  She  was  the  daughter  of  the 
emir  of  Malaga,  and  on  the  day  my  father  came  to  her 
father's  court,  he  saw  her  in  the  gardens,  dancing  with  her 
women  ;  and  his  heart  was  as  fire.  Sleep  left  him.  Three 
days  he  spent  in  sighs  and  sorrow,  and  on  the  fourth  he 
stole  under  the  garden  wall  and  sang  his  passion  :  how  she 
was  lovelier  than  the  Ez-Zahra,  '  City  of  the  Fairest ' ;  her 
voice  was  sweeter  than  the  murmur  of  the  Guadalquiver 
glancing  in  the  sun ;  her  eyes  more  beautiful  than  the  stars 
when  they  twinkle  in  the  lake,  and  a  smile  from  her  lips 
surpassed  all  wine.  Then,  on  the  next  night  as  he  sang, 
she  answered  him  in  like  manner  in  verse ;  how  her  love 
was  strong  as  the  Berber  lion;  his  white  teeth  more  precious 
than  pearls;  his  head  more  beautiful  than  garlands  of 
roses  ;  and  his  words  cut  her  heart  more  keenly  than  cime- 
ters  of  Murcia.  So  my  father  rejoiced,  for  he  knew  he  had 
won ;  and  went  boldly  to  the  emir  and  demanded  his 
daughter  in  marriage." 

"  And  what  are  the  songs  which  your  poets  sing  by  the 
Guadalquiver  and  the  Darro  ?  "  asked  the  princess. 

"Ah,  lady,"  answered  Musa,  dreamily,  "no  true  poet 
can  sing  his  love-song  twice.  See ;  I  will  wish  myself 
back  at  Cordova,  in  the  orange  groves  I  love  so  well,  and 
will  sing  as  move  the  genii  of  song."  And  the  Spaniard 
ran  his  hands  over  the  echoing  strings,  and  sang  in  low, 
weird  melody :  — 


HOW   IFTIKHAR  SPED   A  VAIN   ARROW          85 

u  Sweet  as  the  wind  when  it  kisses  the  rose 

Is  thy  breath  ! 
Blest,  if  thy  lips  had  but  once  on  me  smiled, 

Would  be  death ! 
Give  me  the  throat  of  the  bulbul  to  sing 

Forth  thy  praise : 
Then  wouldst  thou  drink  the  clear  notes  as  they  spring 

All  thy  days ! 

Nard  of  far  Oman's  too  mean  for  thy  sweetness, 
Eagle  wings  lag  at  thy  glancing  eyes'  fleetness  ; 
By  thy  pure  beauty,  bright  gems  lack  completeness ; 

Lady,  ah,  fairest! 

Were  I  a  genie,  with  rapture  I'd  seize  thee ; 

I'd  haste  away 
To  magic-wrought  cavern,  all  jewelled  and  golden ; 

There  I'd  stay 
While  the  long  glad  years  with  printless  feet  wheeling 

Leave  no  trace, 
Save  only  new  beauty  and  soft  love  revealing 

In  thy  face. 

The  speeding  of  ages  would  breed  us  no  sorrow ; 
I'd  shrink  from  no  past,  and  dread  naught  of  the  morrow ; 
The  laugh  in  thine  eyes,  that  alone  I  would  borrow, 

Lady,  ah,  rarest!" 

"  Ai,  Sir  Musa,"  cried  Mary,  when'  the  strings  were  still, 

"were  you  Louis  de  Valmont  or  even  my  Lord  Iftikhar, 

I  should  say  in  my  heart,  '  How  much  you  are  my  slave ! ' 

But  to  a  Spaniard  like  yourself  the  making  of  such  a  song 

—  it  means  nothing  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  answered  the  Andalusian,  his  dreamy  eye 
wandering  over  the  marble  tracery  on  the  wall  above. 

The  emir  broke  forth  hotly  :  — 

"  Wallah,  you  Spaniard,  what  mean  then  your  pretty 
songs,  your  chatter  of  praise  and  compliment,  if  they  are 
words,  words,  and  nothing  more  ?  In  the  East,  whence  I 
come,  we  thrill,  we  feel,  we  make  no  shame  to  flame  with 
a  mighty  passion.  Aye,  and  make  our  deeds  match  our 
fine  words." 

Musa  laid  down  the  lute,  and  stared  at  the  emir  un- 
concernedly. 

"  My  good  lord,"  answered  he,  "  do  you  not  know  that 
when  I  sing  love,  I  sing  not  the  love  of  any  one  lady  ?  And 


86  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

think  not  I  despise  our  princess  —  she  is  peerless  among 
women.  Rather  I  praise  that  divine  essence  which  reveals 
itself  in  every  bright  eye  and  velvet  cheek  from  east  to 
west,  —  this  pure  beauty  sent  down  from  Paradise  by  the 
favor  of  Allah,  I  adore;  and  whenever  I  behold  it,  its 
praise  I  must  sing." 

"  You  are  trained  in  the  heathen  philosophy  of  your 
schools  of  Cordova,"  retorted  the  emir ;  "  I  cannot  follow 
your  thought.  To  me  it  is  better  to  have  the  taste  of  one 
cup  of  wine  than  be  told  of  the  sweetness  of  ten  thousand. 
Enough ;  the  Count  requires  me."  And  he  arose  to  bow 
himself  out. 

Musa  had  arisen  also,  and  courteously  thrust  his  right 
hand  in  his  breast,  where  he  murmured  the  farewell, 
"  Peace  be  on  you." 

Iftikhar's  answer  hung  for  a  moment  on  his  lips,  then 
he  gave  the  customary  reply  among  Moslem  friends, 
"  And  on  you  be  peace,  and  the  mercy  of  Allah  and  His 
blessings !  " 

Mary  sighed  when  the  emir  was  gone. 

"  You  are  not  gay,  dear  lady,"  said  the  Spaniard ;  "  if  I 
can  do  aught  to  aid,  command  me." 

Half  petulantly  the  princess  caught  a  sugared  cake  from 
the  tray  by  the  divan  and  threw  it  into  the  fountain,  where 
the  greedy  fish  in  the  basin  waited. 

"  I  should  be  very  happy,  should  I  not  ? "  exclaimed  she, 
with  a  laugh  not  very  merry.  "  See,  since  I  have  come  to 
Palermo,  here  are  Richard  Longsword  and  De  Valmont 
with  blades  drawn  on  my  account ;  the  emir  sighs  like  the 
west  wind,  and  is  all  gloom  and  restlessness ;  and  you,  Sir 
Musa,"  she  went  on  boldly,  "  were  you  to  speak  out  your 
own  heart,  are  wishing  them  all  three  dead,  that  you  might 
have  no  rival.  Holy  Mother,"  added  she,  with  half  a  sob, 
half  a  laugh,  "  I  am  too  much  loved  !  What  am  I,  silly 
girl,  that  so  many  brave  cavaliers  should  pawn  their  souls 
for  my  poor  sake ! " 

"  Sweet  mistress,"  replied  the  Spaniard,  very  slowly, 
flinging  a  second  cake  into  the  fountain,  "  you  are  wrong. 
Your  friend,  your  admirer,  I  will  ever  be.  Were  we  both 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   SPED   A  VAIN    ARROW  87 

Christian  or  Moslem,  had  I  no  memories  of  moon-lit  nights 
and  sun-lit  orchards  in  Spain  —  but  enough  of  that !  Know 
that  I  am  the  sworn  brother  of  Richard  Longsword ;  that 
he  loves  you  purely  and  honorably ;  that  after  the  manner 
of  his  people  he  will  become  a  great  man,  whom  any  lady, 
be  she  however  high,  might  love  to  call  her  lord.  And 
that  you  may  smile  on  him,  is  my  first  and  only  prayer." 

Mary's  whole  face  crimsoned  at  this,  for  Musa  was  not 
now  playing  the  poet.  There  was  a  ring  of  command  in 
her  voice  when  she  made  answer :  — 

"  Sir  Musa,  I  cannot  have  another  say  for  them  what 
Richard  and  Louis  de  Valmont  may  not  say  to  my  face. 
Let  us  await  the  tourney.  Who  knows  lest  your  friend 
will  woo  no  more  after  that  day?  I  hear  —  God  spare 
them  both  —  that  Louis  is  a  terrible  knight ;  he  will  ride 
against  Longsword  as  though  all  the  fiends  were  in  him." 

"  They  are  in  the  hands  of  the  Most  High,"  said  the  An- 
dalusian,  still  very  gently;  "yet,  believe  me,  the  Provencal 
may  have  ridden  down  many  stout  knights,  and  yet  not  the 
peer  of  Longsword.  But  —  "  and  he  in  turn  salaamed,  "  I 
have  also  to  hasten.  And  perhaps  even  my  presence  is 
burdensome." 

"  No,"  cried  the  Greek,  extending  her  hands,  "  come, 
come  often  ;  I  have  too  many  lovers,  too  few  friends.  My 
father  sinks  day  by  day ;  Christ  pity  me  !  I  am  alone  in 
a  strange  land ;  I  have  borne  myself  foolishly.  The 
beauty  you  sing  of  is  half  a  curse.  If  truly  you  would  be 
my  friend,  and  nothing  more,  do  not  desert  me.  I  am 
very  wretched." 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes ;  her  voice  choked  a  little, 
but  she  stood  proud  and  steady,  the  great  princess  still. 

Very  low  was  the  reverence  paid  by  the  Spaniard.  He 
kissed  the  bright  rug  at  her  feet ;  then  rising,  answered :  — 

"  Star  of  the  Greeks,  not  you,  but  Allah  who  has  put 
enchantment  in  your  eyes,  has  bred  this  trouble,  if  trouble 
it  be.  But  as  for  me,  I  swear  it,  by  Allah  the  Great,  you 
shall  never  call  on  me  in  vain  !  " 

"  You  are  a  noble  cavalier,  Sir  Musa,"  said  the  lady,  now 
all  dignity;  "  I  thank  you." 


88  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

So  the  days  went  by,  and  it  was  the  evening  before  the 
tourney.  All  around  Palermo  spread  the  tents,  bright 
pavilions  of  silk  with  broad  pennons  above,  whipping  the 
slow  south  wind.  The  gardens  of  the  Golden  Shell  buzzed 
with  the  clatter  and  hum  of  a  thousand  busy  squires.  In 
the  city,  every  house  —  Christian,  Moslem,  or  Jewish  —  was 
thrown  open  to  guests.  There  were  flags  at  every  door 
and  window ;  and  within  pealed  the  laughter  of  feasters, 
the  note  of  viol  and  psaltery  and  tabor  at  the  dance.  All 
the  house  walls  without  and  within  were  decked  in  tapes- 
tries, cloth  of  gold,  and  priceless  paile  and  cendal  silk, 
some  from  the  looms  of  Thebes  or  Corinth,  some  from  the 
farthest  Ind.  Mixed  with  these  Orient  stuffs,  the  storied 
Poitou  tapestry  shook  to  the  breeze  in  long  folds,  display- 
ing kings  and  emperors  and  the  legion  of  the  saints.  Much 
wagering  there  was  with  knight  and  villain  on  the  issues 
of  the  day.  Many  cavaliers  of  the  baser  sort  had  entered, 
merely  in  hopes  to  fill  their  purses  by  the  ransom  of  de- 
feated combatants ;  most  of  all,  men  chaffered  over  the 
coming  duel  between  Richard  and  Louis.  "  Longsword 
would  never  stand  one  round,"  ran  the  vulgar  tongue; 
"  De  Valmont  had  no  peer  unless  it  were  Iftikhar.  The 
saints  have  mercy  on  the  younger  knight  in  Purgatory !  " 

As  for  Mary,  she  had  spent  the  afternoon  in  no  common 
vexation.  Her  father  was  worse,  and  could  not  go  to  the 
tourney.  Countess  Adelaide  had  bidden  the  princess  sit 
with  her,  but  Mary  had  little  joy  in  the  prospect. 

That  evening  as  she  sat  with  a  taper  at  her  reading-desk, 
the  purple  vellum  leaves  of  George  of  Pisidia's  learned  epic 
brought  little  forgetfulness.  While  she  was  staring  at  the 
words,  Bardas,  the  serving-man,  startled  her :  "  The  emir 
Iftikhar  to  see  the  gracious  princess."  And  without  await- 
ing permission  the  Egyptian  entered.  He  was  in  his  splen- 
did panoply,  —  gold  on  the  rings  of  his  cuirass,  two  broad 
eagle  wings  on  his  helmet,  between  them  burned  a  great 
ruby.  Under  the  mail-shirt  hung  the  green  silk  trousers 
with  their  pearl  embroidery,  gems  again  on  the  buckles  of 
the  high  shoes,  more  gems  on  the  gilded  sword  hilt. 

"You  are  come   in   state,   my  lord,"    said   the  Greek, 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   SPED   A   VAIN   ARROW  89 

while  he  made  profound  obeisance.  "  What  may  I  do  for 
you  ? " 

"  O  lady  of  excellent  beauty,"  he  began  abruptly, 
"will  you  indeed  give  your  hand  to  him  who  conquers 
to-morrow  ? " 

The  wandering  eye,  the  flushed  cheek,  the  mad  fire  of  his 
words  —  all  these  were  a  warning.  Mary  drew  herself  up. 

"  You  ask  what  you  have  no  right,  my  lord,"  answered 
she ;  "  I  am  in  no  way  pledged." 

Unlucky  admission  :  in  a  twinkling  the  emir  had  moved 
a  step  toward  her  and  stretched  out  his  arms. 

"  Oh,  happy  mortal  that  I  am !  O  lady  with  the  wis- 
dom of  Sukman,  nephew  of  Job,  the  beauty  of  Jacob,  the 
sweet  voice  of  David,  the  purity  of  Mary  the  Virgin ! 
Listen  !  Favor  me !  " 

"  Sir ! "  cried  the  Greek,  recoiling  as  he  advanced, 
"what  is  this  speech?  No  more  of  it.  I  am  Christian, 
you  a  Moslem.  Friends  we  have  been,  perhaps  to  our 
cost.  More  than  that,  never ;  we  part,  if  you  think  to  make 
otherwise ! " 

Iftikhar  fell  on  his  knees.  All  the  flame  of  a  terrible 
passion  was  kindling  his  eyes.  Even  as  she  trembled, 
Mary  could  admire  his  Oriental  splendor.  But  she  did 
not  forget  herself. 

"  I  must  bid  you  leave  me ! "  with  a  commanding  ges- 
ture. "  If  our  friendship  leads  to  this  —  it  is  well  to  make 
an  end !  " 

"Not  so,"  burst  from  the  Egyptian,  still  supplicating; 
"  none  worship  you  as  do  I !  To  me  you  are  fair  as  the 
moon  in  its  fourteenth  night,  when  the  clouds  withdraw. 
For  your  sake  I  will  turn  Christian.  To  win  you  —  "  But 
Mary  was  in  no  gracious  mood  that  night. 

"  Madman,"  she  tossed  back,  all  her  anger  rising  at  his 
importunity,  "  do  you  think  you  will  buy  me  with  such  a 
bribe  ?  Forswear  Mohammed  for  your  soul's  sake,  not 
for  mine !  I  do  not  love  you.  Were  I  to  look  on  any 
Moslem,  why  not  Musa  ?  he  is  a  noble  cavalier." 

Iftikhar  was  not  kneeling  now.  His  eyes  still  flashed. 
His  voice  was  husky ;  but  he  mastered  it. 


9o  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

"Lady,"  he  said  a  little  thickly,  "think  well  before  you 
say  me  nay.  Listen  —  I  am  a  man  of  great  power  among 
both  Franks  and  Moslem.  Were  I  to  go  to  Syria,  even 
higher  things  await  me,  —  commands,  cities,  principalities," 
his  voice  rose  higher,  "  kingdoms  even ;  for  you  should 
know  that  I  am  a  chieftain  of  the  Ismaelians,  one  of  the 
highest  dais  of  that  dread  brotherhood,  whose  daggers 
strike  down  the  mightiest,  and  at  whose  warning  kalifs 
tremble  — 

Mary  cut  him  short ;  her  poise  grew  more  haughty.  "  I 
do  not  love  you.  Were  you  kalif  or  emperor,  I  would  not 
favor  you.  Depart." 

"  Hearken  !  "  cried  the  Egyptian,  with  a  last  effort ;  "  my 
breast  bursts  for  the  love  of  you ;  the  light  of  your  eyes  is 
my  sun  ;  a  kiss  from  you  —  my  arms  about  you  — 

But  here  the  Greek,  whose  face  had  crimsoned,  snatched 
a  tiny  baton  beside  a  bronze  gong. 

"  Away  from  me  !  "  she  commanded  fiercely,  as  he  took 
an  uneasy  step  toward  her.  "  Away  !  or  I  sound  the  gong 
and  call  the  grooms." 

"Woman!"  came  from  his  lips  hotly,  "what  is  such  a 
threat  to  me  ?  I  would  have  you  with  your  love  if  I  might. 
But,  by  the  Glory  of  Allah,  you  I  will  have,  though  your 
every  breath  were  a  curse.  Your  grooms  !  "  with  a  proud 
toss  of  his  splendid  head ;  "  were  they  tea,  what  have  I  to 
fear  ?  I,  the  best  sword  in  all  Sicily,  in  all  Syria,  Egypt, 
and  Iran,  perchance."  And  he  came  a  step  still  nearer ; 
and  now  at  last  Mary  began  to  dread,  but  still  she  did  not 
quail. 

"  I  doubt  not  your  valor,  my  lord,"  she  said  very  coldly. 
"  But  my  heart  and  hand  are  not  to  be  won  with  a  cimeter, 
as  was  won  that  castle  breach  which  Musa  and  Richard 
Longsword,  not  you,  entered  first." 

Scarce  were  the  words  out  of  her  mouth  before  terror 
seized  her.  For  in  a  twinkling  Iftikhar  had  snatched  the 
gong  from  her  reach,  and  caught  her  wrist  in  a  grasp  of 
iron.  She  could  feel  the  hot  breath  from  his  nostrils  in 
her  face,  see  the  mad  blood  swelling  the  veins  of  his  fore- 
head. In  her  panic  she  screamed  once,  and  instantly 


HOW   IFFIKHAR   SPED   A   VAIN   ARROW  91 

.  Iftikhar  was  pressing  her  very  throat.  In  his  mighty 
hands  she  was  dumb  and  helpless  as  a  child. 

"  Hear  me,"  came  from  his  lips  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  I 
have  not  come  hither  alone.  I  had  come  to  bear  away  the 
pledge  of  your  love.  You  spurn  me.  All  is  provided.  My 
slave  Zeyneb  is  without,  and  with  him  fifteen  men,  all 
armed,  hidden  in  the  gardens.  What  resistance  could  your 
servants  make,  were  you  to  cry  ever  so  loudly  ?  My  men 
are  devotees  of  our  order  —  would  kill  themselves  at  my 
bidding.  A  ship  lies  in  the  harbor  at  my  command.  It  is 
night.  You  are  helpless.  I  will  carry  you  aboard.  Before 
morning  we  are  beyond  sight  of  Sicily,  beyond  pursuit. 
And  you  are  mine,  be  it  in  love  or  hate,  forever  —  forever !  " 

Iftikhar  pressed  his  face  nearer.  Mary  thrilled  with 
horror  beyond  words.  She  had  one  thought,  — her  father, 
her  father. 

"  To  Egypt,"  Iftikhar  was  repeating,  "  to  Syria.  There 
is  a  palace  of  mine  at  Aleppo,  beside  which  this  is  a  cot- 
tage. And  it  shall  be  yours  and  you  mine.  Allah  aklibah  ! 
How  beautiful  you  are;  your  lips,  a  kiss  —  " 

But  even  as  Mary's  senses  reeled,  she  heard  a  step,  a 
familiar  step,  and  Iftikhar  had  let  her  drop  from  his  hands 
as  though  her  form  were  flame.  She  caught  at  a  column, 
steadied  herself,  and  looked  upon  the  face  of  Musa. 

The  Spaniard  was  standing  in  the  dim  light  of  the  hall, 
dressed  in  sombre  black  armor ;  but  the  red  plumes  danced 
on  his  helmet.  His  shield  was  on  his  arm,  naked  cimeter 
outstretched. 

"  The  peace  of  Allah  be  with  you,  fair  lady,  and  noble 
lord,"  said  Musa,  bowing  in  most  stately  fashion,  first  to 
the  shivering  Greek,  then  to  Iftikhar.  The  Egyptian 
already  had  his  weapon  drawn,  but  the  Andalusian  did  not 
fall  on  guard. 

"Most  excellent  emir,"  continued  he,  very  gently, 
"  Count  Roger  bids  me  say,  if  you  will  go  at  once  to  the 
castle,  it  will  please  him  well.  And  your  men  in  the  gar- 
dens shall  be  no  care  to  you.  I  have  ridden  from  Palermo 
with  forty  lancers,  who  will  give  them  all  good  company  on 
return." 


92  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

Night  was  never  blacker  than  the  frown  of  the  Egyptian, 
when  he  replied  huskily :  "  And,  Sir  Spaniard,  why  does 
Count  Roger  favor  you  with  bearing  me  his  orders  ?  And 
why  come  you  here  unbidden,  with  cimeter  and  target  ? " 

"  Because,"  answered  Musa,  his  brow  too  darkening, 
"  I  know  too  well  why  the  Commander  of  the  Guard  is 
here."  Then,  more  sternly,  "And  that  I  have  come 
barely  in  time  —  praise  be  to  Allah  —  to  save  him  from 
a  deed  at  which  the  very  jinns  of  hell  would  cry  out!" 

He  took  a  step  closer  to  Iftikhar,  and  the  two  blades 
went  up  together.  But  Mary  sprang  forward,  with  the 
cry  :  — 

"  Not  as  you  live !  You  shall  not.  Would  you  kill 
my  father  by  fighting  here,  and  for  me  ? " 

Musa  let  his  point  fall,  and  bowed  with  courtly  ease. 

"  You  say  well,  Star  of  the  Greeks.  The  emir  will 
speak  with  me  elsewhere." 

Iftikhar  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  rage. 

"Cursed  be  you  and  all  your  race !  What  enchanter  has 
told  you  this  —  has  humiliated  me  thus  ?  " 

"  You  ask  what  I  may  not  tell,"  and  Musa  smiled  in  his 
gentle  way.  "  Enough,  I  was  told  all  that  was  in  your 
heart,  about  an  hour  since,  —  the  ship,  the  men,  the  de- 
sign. Count  Roger  also  knows;  and,  my  lord,  he  has 
been  none  too  well  pleased  with  your  faithfulness  of  late. 
I  have  come  with  forty  given  me  by  the  Count.  They  do 
not  know  their  errand ;  they  are  to  move  at  my  nod. 
Ride  back  with  me  to  Palermo,  my  lord,  and  pledge  me 
your  word,  by  Allah  the  Great,  said  thrice,  that  you  will 
not  molest  Mary  Kurkuas  so  long  as  you  remain  in  Sicily, 
or  —  " 

"And  if  I  will  not—    '  broke  from  the  raging  emir. 

"Then,  my  lord,  I  shall  carry  you  to  the  castle  in 
fetters.  My  men  are  also  without — "  Iftikhar  had 
half  started  upon  the  Spaniard,  swinging  his  cimeter. 
"  Never  !  "  came  between  his  teeth.  Musa  beckoned  away 
Mary  with  his  own  weapon.  "To  your  father!  "  he  com- 
manded. But  the  Egyptian  let  his  point  sink.  "  Allah 
make  you  feel  the  fire  of  Gehennah ! "  was  his  curse. 
"  I  am  trapped,  I  will  swear." 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   SPED  A  VAIN   ARROW          93 

"  Then,  my  lord,  saving  Count  Roger,  and  the  lady, 
and  myself,  none  shall  ever  know  of  this,"  said  Musa 
softly,  and  he  pointed  with  his  cimeter  to  the  doorway. 
Iftikhar  repeated  the  great  oath  —  the  most  terrible  among 
Moslems  —  thrice ;  bowed  to  the  Spaniard ;  made  a  pro- 
found salaam  to  Mary;  the  samite  curtains  in  the  passage 
closed  behind  him ;  his  footfalls  died  away ;  he  was  gone. 
Musa  bowed  in  turn  :  — 

"  Allah  is  merciful,  dear  lady.  Do  I  prove  a  faithful 
cavalier? " 

"  Ah,  Sir  Musa  !  "  cried  Mary,  still  faint  and  weak,  "  God 
requite  you.  I  offer  you  all  I  have,  except  love  —  and 
could  I  give  that,  it  were  mean  repayment." 

Musa's  plumes  almost  brushed  the  pavement  as  he  again 
saluted. 

"  I  may  not  tell  how  I  learned  of  this  plot.  I  was 
warned  secretly  by  a  strange  Arabian  woman,  who  required 
of  me  solemn  oath  not  to  reveal  her.  To  her,  owe  the 
thanks !  But  my  mistress's  words  are  more  precious  than 
as  if  each  syllable  were  treasures  of  gold ;  the  praise,  flashed 
from  her  eyes,  beyond  gems ;  her  voice  sweeter  than  all  the 
nightingales  of  Khorassan.  I  am  well- repaid." 

He,  too,  .departed.  Mary  stood  long  clinging  to  the  pil- 
lar, now  shivering,  now  laughing.  What  had  she  not 
escaped  ?  When  might  she  forget  the  unholy  desire  on 
the  emir's  face  when  he  departed  ?  Had  he  indeed  for- 
saken his  passion  for  her  forever  ? 

"  St.  Theodore,"  she  cried  with  a  sad,  wild  laugh,  "  I 
am  cursed  with  too  much  love ! " 

Then  she  went  to  her  father. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HOW   TRENCHEFER    DROVE    HOME 

NOVEMBER  sixth;  feast  of  St.  Leonard,  the  warrior 
hermit;  third  hour  of  the  morning.  -In  the  monastery 
church  the  monks  were  chanting  "terce"  to  an  empty  nave. 
Wheh  the  muezzins  climbed  their  minarets  to  bid  all  Mos- 
lems "come  to  prayer,"  few  heard.  Mary  Kurkuas  sat  in 
the  pavilion  of  Countess  Adelaide,  viewing  the  lists  and 
wondering  if  even  the  vision  of  the  Golden  Horn  and  Con- 
stantinople might  be  more  fair.  The  lists  were  set  in  the 
broad  plain  betwixt  the  city  and  Monte  Pellegrino,  the 
loftier  western  height  of  Castellaccio  and  Monte  Cuccio. 
All  about  lay  the  matchless  country  —  Palermo,  its  masses 
of  white  buildings  crowned  with  gilded  minarets;  the 
blooming  "Golden  Shell"  a  sea  of  olive  trees,  palm,  fig, 
orange,  running  down  to  that  other  sea  of  emerald  ;  and  in 
the  background  rocks  of  saffron  topped  by  the  broken  peaks 
beyond. 

Against  the  stout  wooden  barriers  with  pointed  palings, 
pressed  and  jostled  a  vast  swarm  of  city  folk,  —  Greek, 
Frank,  Arab,  Jew,  —  their  busy  tongues  making  babel. 
Within  the  barriers,  but  behind  the  low  inner  fence, 
loitered  the  impatient  squires,  splendid  in  bright  mantles 
and  silvered  casques,  ready,  the  instant  conflict  joined,  to 
rush  to  the  metie,  and  drag  dismounted  combatants  from 
under  the  horses.  But  for  the  ladies  —  "the  stars  of  the 
tourney"  —  were  set  shady  pavilions, — wooden  lodges, 
brightly  painted,  flag-covered.  Now  their  rising  tiers  of 
seats  were  filled  by  a  buzzing  throng,  rustling  their  silken 
mantles  and  satin  bleaunts.  And  the  sun  was  glancing  on 

94 


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many  a  gemmed  fillet  and  many  a  ribbon-decked,  blond 
tress  that  fell  nigh  to  its  proud  owner's  knees.  These  on 
the  western  side.  On  the  eastern  fluttered  gauzy  veils, 
feathery  fans,  blazing  brocade  of  Mosul,  and  kerchiefs  of 
Kufa.  Dark  eyes  flashed  from  beneath  the  veiling.  But 
Moslem  watched  Christian  in  peace.  A  clang  of  trumpets 
was  drifting  down  the  wind — the  tourneyers  were  coming 
from  Palermo. 

Fifty  viols  braying  in  the  hands  of  marching  Prankish 
jongleurs ;  fifty  Egyptian  timbrels  clattering  ;  kettledrums, 
northern  horns;  heralds  in  blue  mantles,  Christian  and 
Moslem  side  by  side — the  combatants  two  abreast — Nor- 
man, Provencal,  Sicilian,  Arab,  Egyptians  of  the  embassy, 
—  a  goodly  company;  gold  on  every  Toledo  hauberk, 
silver  on  each  bit  and  bridle ;  a  trailing  pennon  on  every 
lance,  save  when  a  prouder  banner  streamed  —  the  silken 
stocking  of  some  fair  dame,  gift  of  love  to  her  chosen 
cavalier.  So  the  procession  entered.  Behind  them  trailed 
a  new  horde  of  common  folk  who  had  come  from  watching 
two  blindfolded  varlets  chase  a  pig  in  a  ring;  these,  too, 
now  pressed  against  the  palings,  peering  and  edging  for  a 
glimpse  within.  Then,  while  the  actual  combatants  rode 
to  the  tents  at  either  end  of  the  lists,  two  cavaliers  —  Count 
Roger  de  Hauteville  and  Prince  Tancred,  his  nephew — 
came  to  take  seats  in  the  Countess's  lodge ;  for  they  were 
judges  of  the  games. 

A  lordly  cavalier  was  the  Sicilian  count  despite  three- 
score years  and  more ;  fire  still  in  his  blue  eyes,  command 
and  power  in  his  voice ;  worthy  suzerain  of  so  fair  an  isle. 
At  his  side  stood  his  nephew,  —  stranger  as  yet  to  Mary 
Kurkuas ;  but  at  once  she  noted  his  flaxen  hair  and  crafty 
"  sea-green  "  eye,  and  stature  above  that  of  common  men. 
She  was  told  he  had  fame  as  the  most  headlong  cavalier  in 
all  south  Italy ;  but  she  little  dreamed  what  deeds  God 
destined  him  to  dare.  Very  ceremonious  was  the  Prince, 
when  he  saluted  the  Greek  lady.  He  spoke  her  own 
tongue  fluently,  and  never  in  Constantinople  had  she  met 
a  gentleman  more  at  his  ease  in  courtly  company.  Their 
talk  ran  soon  to  the  tourney  and  the  combatants. 


96  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  I  wish  you  joy,  fair  princess,"  protested  Tancred ;  "  not 
often  may  any  lady  see  two  stouter  champions  ride  with 
her  name  on  the  lips  of  both  !  " 

Mary  shook  her  head. 

"  Would  God  they  might  do  anything  else !  They  tell 
me  Sir  Louis  has  sworn  to  have  Sir  Richard's  life ;  and 
the  Auvergner  is  a  terrible  cavalier." 

Tancred  shot  a  glance  keen  as  an  arrow.  Did  he  know 
that  Mary's  heart  would  ride  with  one  of  the  train  and  not 
with  the  other  ? 

"  Spare  him  your  tears,"  was  the  answer.  "  Louis  de 
Valmont  is  a  famous  knight;  but  I  do  not  think  he  will 
down  Richard  Longsword  in  one  joust,  — or  in  seven." 

"St.  Basil  spare  both — and  forgive  both!"  was  the 
unuttered  reply.  But  she  asked,  "  Yet  I  saw  neither 
among  the  combatants  ? " 

"  True ;  both  protested  they  could  not  meet  in  the 
regular  tourney  and  take  the  required  oath  to  fight  solely 
to  gain  skill.  Fight  on  the  same  side  they  will  not; 
therefore  they  will  come  forward  when  the  general  games 
end."  Tancred  was  cut  short  by  a  word  from  the  Count. 

"See,  my  princess  —  a  cavalier  asks  your  favor." 

None  other  than  Musa  had  reined  before  the  pavilion  on 
a  prancing  white  Berber.  His  plain  black  mail  fitted  his 
fine  form  like  a  doublet.  His  mettled  horse  caracoled 
under  his  touch  with  a  grace  that  made  a  long  "Ah!" 
come  from  betwixt  more  than  one  pair  of  red  lips.  His 
glance  sought  the  Greek. 

Mary  rose  deliberately ;  long  since  had  she  learned  not 
to  dread  the  public  eye. 

"  See,  Sir  Musa,"  cried  she,  loosing  the  red  ribbon  from 
her  neck.  "Wear  this  in  the  games  and  do  me  honor!  " 
More  than  two  heads  had  come  together. 

"  Has  De  Valmont  a  new  rival  ?  "  ran  the  whisper.  But 
Mary  knew  her  ground. 

"  Your  reward  for  service  untold,"  she  tossed  forth ; 
and  only  the  Count  and  two  more  knew  what  her  words 
implied.  Musa  caught  the  ribbon  with  a  flourish  of  his 
lance ;  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  then  wound  it  deftly  around 


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the  green,  peaked  cap  which  he  wore  Andalusian  fashion 
in  lieu  of  turban. 

"  You  honor  a  gallant  cavalier,"  said  the  Count,  applaud- 
ing. "  I  offered  him  much  to  join  my  service  ;  but  he  listens 
to  the  proffers  of  the  Egyptian  envoys." 

"  Look !  "  came  Tancred's  voice  ;  and  Mary  saw  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh,  on  a  dappled  Arabian  and  in  his  panoply  of  the 
night  before,  come  plunging  down  the  lists.  Abreast  of 
Musa  he  drew  rein  in  a  twinkling,  and  the  two  riders  came 
together  so  close  that  no  other  might  hear  the  words  which 
flew  between  them.  But  ten  thousand  saw  Musa's  hand 
clap  to  hilt,  and  Iftikhar's  lance  half  fall  to  rest. 

"Holy  Mother  —  keep  them  asunder!"  was  Mary's 
whispered  prayer. 

Count  Roger  had  risen. 

"  Sirs  —  what  is  this  ?  Brew  quarrels  under  your  lady's 
very  eyes  ?  Go  apart,  or  I  forbid  you  to  ride  in  the  games." 
Iftikhar  bowed  his  head,  — in  no  very  good  grace,  it  seemed, 
—  and  cantered  sulkily  to  the  upper  end  of  the  lists. 

"  I  fear  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  and  I  must  soon  seek  other 
masters,"  remarked  the  Count  to  Tancred,  in  Mary's  hear- 
ing. "  Rumor  has  it,  he  has  dealings  with  the  Ismaelians. 
He  grows  haughty  and  insubordinate.  A  good  captain 
and  a  matchless  cavalier ;  yet  I  shall  not  grieve  to  see  him 
return  to  the  East." 

But  now  the  Christian  heralds  were  calling  on  the 
Normans  and  Provencals  to  range  themselves  in  two  com- 
panies and  do  battle,  after  the  rule  of  that  knightly  para- 
gon, Geoffrey  de  Preully, — "for  the  love  of  Christ,  St. 
George,  and  all  fair  ladies."  Of  the  passage  at  arms  that 
followed,  needless  here  to  tell.  Many  a  stout  blow  was 
struck  despite  blunted  weapons;  ten  good  knights  fell  sense- 
less from  their  horses  ;  the  squires  took  up  two  dead  ;  sent 
for  a  priest  to  anoint  a  third.  Before  the  fray  ended,  little 
Countess  Blanche  and  her  ladies  had  fluttered  and  shrieked 
till  wild  and  hoarse.  They  had  torn  off  ribbons,  necklaces, 
lockets,  bracelets,  and  tossed  forth  madly  "  gauntlets  of 
love  "  to  favorite  cavaliers,  until  they  sat  —  or  stood  rather 
—  dressed  only  in  their  robes  and  their  long,  bright  hair. 


98  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Then  came  respite,  while  the  lists  were  cleared  for  the 
Saracens'  games,  —  for  the  wise  Count  suffered  no  ill- 
blood  to  breed  by  letting  Christian  ride  against  Moslem. 
The  Egyptian  cavaliers  took  part  —  stately  men,  in  red, 
silver-embroidered  tunics,  with  blue,  gem-set  aigrettes 
flashing  in  their  turbans.  No  less  gallant  were  the  Sicil- 
ian Saracens,  and  Iftikhar  most  brilliant  of  them  all.  A 
small  palm  tree  was  set  in  the  midst  of  the  arena,  —  the 
trunk  bronze,  the  leaves  one  sheen  of  gold-foil.  A  silver 
dove  dangled  from  a  bough,  in  the  bill  a  golden  ring. 
Then  the  Arab  heralds  proclaimed  that  each  horseman 
should  ride  in  turn,  catching  the  ring  upon  his  lance ;  and 
he  who  once  failed  should  not  try  again. 

So  they  rode,  twenty  or  more.  The  first  round  none 
missed ;  three  in  the  second ;  and  so  till  the  ninth,  when 
there  were  but  two,  —  and  these  Iftikhar  and  Musa  the 
Andalusian. 

"  Beard  of  the  Prophet !  "  cried  Hasham,  the  Egyptian 
envoy,  whp  sat  at  the  Count's  side,  "  the  two  are  as  en- 
chanted. Not  in  all  Egypt  —  in  all  Syria  and  Khorassan, 
—  such  horsemen  !  " 

"  And  the  All-wise  alone  knows,"  responded  the  Count, 
"  which  of  the  two  be  the  better !  Yet  I  wish  any  save  these 
two  were  contending.  See  !  Again  !  " 

And  the  twain  rode  many  times  ;  till  Mary,  whose  cheeks 
were  very  hot  and  eyes  very  bright,  forgot  to  count  the 
rounds.  At  last  a  shout :  — 

"  Iftikhar  fails  !  "  The  ring  was  still  in  the  dove's  mouth. 
Musa  swung  lightly  his  horse ;  dropped  lance-point,  dashed 
at  the  tree  at  a  gallop,  fleet  as  the  north  wind,  amid  a  cloud 
of  dust ;  but  as  he  flew  down  the  lists  a  mightier  shout 
was  rising.  The  ring  glittered  on  his  spear.  The  Count 
placed  the  prize  in  Mary's  hand,  when  the  heralds  led  the 
victor  to  the  judges'  lodge. 

"Sir  Musa,"  said  she  clearly,  while  he  knelt  and  she 
fixed  the  diamond-studded  aigrette  upon  his  cap,  "you  have 
so  ridden  that  all  your  friends  grow  proud.  May  it  be 
ever  thus !  " 

"  Could  each  gem  be  a  thousand,"  answered  the  Span- 


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iard,  in  his  musical  accent,  "  they  were  less  precious  than 
your  words  to-day." 

"There  spoke  the  true  cavalier  of  Spain  !  "  cried  Count 
Roger,  who  loved  Moslems  so  that  priests  grumbled  he 
dissuaded  them  from  Christianity.  And  Hasham  added, 
"  Verily,  the  efreets  bewitched  the  Almoravide  when  he 
exiled  such  a  horseman  !  " 

"  By  the  brightness  of  Allah  ! "  replied  Musa,  with  a 
sweeping  bow  to  the  ladies,  "  who  could  not  ride  through 
a  thousand  blades  with  such  gaze  upon  him  !  " 

The  Andalusian  started  to  ride  slowly  back  to  his  station, 
when  the  Count  summoned  him  again. 

"  Sir  Musa,  all  is  not  smooth  between  you  and  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh.  In  the  game  to  follow  I  desire  that  you  ride  on 
the  same  side.  I  will  not  have  you  meet.  What  were 
those  words  between  you  ?  " 

The  Spaniard's  teeth  shone  white  when  he  answered  :  — 

"  Bountiful  lord,  the  emir  deigned  to  tell  me  that  if  ever 
we  met  face  to  face  and  naught  hindered,  I  would  do  well 
to  commend  my  soul  to  Allah." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  Made  answer  that  the  secrets  of  Allah  were  hid,  and  no 
man  knows  whether  the  Book  of  Doom  assigns  death  to 
Iftikhar  or  to  Musa  when  they  meet;  as  Musa  for  his 
part  prays  they  may." 

"Mad  spirits!"  laughed  Roger;  "but  I  cannot  have 
more  than  De  Valmont  and  Longsword  sacrifice  them- 
selves to-day.  Your  word  that  you  will  not  seek  Iftikhar's 
mischief  in  the  games  !  " 

"  Given,  my  lord." 

"Good!" — then  to  an  attendant  knight,  "Send  the 
emir  to  the  pavilion." 

But  the  emir  had  withdrawn  himself,  and  was  not  to  be 
found,  until  amid  the  clash  of  Eastern  music  the  arena  was 
cleared  and  the  Moslem  game  of  the  wands  began.  The 
ten  riders  who  had  contended  best  for  the  rings  were  drawn 
up,  five  against  five.  Light  round  targets  were  brought 
them,  and  in  the  place  of  pointed  lances,  long  brittle 
reeds.  He  who  failed  to  break  his  reed  on  an  opponent's 


ioo  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

target,  when  they  charged  at  gallop,  fell  out  of  the 
game,  unless  his  rival  fared  no  better.  Iftikhar  Eddauleh 
and  Musa  were  arrayed  on  the  same  side,  with  three  com- 
batants between.  The  Count  had  seen  the  shadow  flit 
across  Mary's  face,  and  reassured:  "They  will  not  meet 
unless  the  other  eight  are  worsted  before  either  of  them  — 
and  that  can  scarcely  be;  for  all  are  great  cavaliers." 

Then  the  kettledrums  boomed,  while  the  ten  dashed  to- 
gether. A  fair  sight,  without  the  bloodshed  of  the  Chris- 
tians' tourney.  As  each  rider  swept  forward  after  break- 
ing his  reed,  he  dashed  on  past  attendants  standing  with 
a  sheaf  of  unbroken  lances,  dropped  his  shivered  butt, 
snatched  another,  and  spurred  back  to  the  contest.  The 
horses  caught  their  masters'  spirit,  and  threw  up  their 
heels  merrily  as  they  flew  on  charge  after  charge.  Well 
matched  were  all;  only  on  the  seventh  round  did  an  agile 
Sicilian,  by  a  quick  crouch  in  the  saddle,  elude  an  Egyp- 
tian's reed  while  fairly  breaking  his  own.  The  dust  rose 
high.  The  horses  panted.  One  by  one  the  combatants 
dropped  out.  At  last,  after  the  multitude  had  howled  and 
cheered  till  weary,  the  dust  cloud  settled,  and  revealed  that 
of  one  party  of  five  not  one  remained  contesting ;  of  the 
other,  side  by  side  sat  Musa  and  Iftikhar  Eddauleh. 

The  great  Count  shook  his  head,  and  Mary  had  little 
joy.  They  at  least  knew  what  fires  would  spur  on  the 
emir,  when  he  rode ;  but  to  deny  the  crowd  their  sport 
would  have  meant  riot,  —  nay,  bloodshed,  —  what  with 
their  thousands  standing  on  the  benches,  pressing  the  pal- 
ings, shaking  earth  and  air  with  tumult.  The  two  con- 
testants mounted  new  horses  and  sat  face  to  face ;  behind 
each  stood  an  attendant  with  the  sheaf  of  reed  lances. 
Count  Roger  swept  his  eye  over  the  lists. 

"Ha!  who  is  that  dwarfish  fellow  behind  the  emir?" 
demanded  he  ;  and  a  knight  beside  answered  :  — 

"Zeyneb,  Iftikhar's  body-servant  and  shadow." 

Roger  did  not  need  to  see  the  cloud  that  spread  on 
Mary's  face.  "  Holla ! "  cried  the  Count,  "he  is  not  admitted 
to  the  lists  !  A  venomous  cat,  I  hear."  A  new  roar 
from  the  benches  drowned  his  voice.  The  two  had  charged 


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amid  deafening  din.  Three  times  past,  and  the  reeds 
fairly  broken  ;  four  times,  —  never  drawing  rein,  —  the 
emir  broke  only  by  a  great  shift ;  five  times,  both  shivered 
fairly ;  sixth  time,  the  Egyptian  shattered  only  his  tip, 
which  still  dangled  from  the  butt. 

"  The  Spaniard  wins  !  "  cried  a  thousand  throats.  But 
the  emir  had  spurred  by,  dashed  up  to  his  attendant, 
snatched  lance,  wheeled  instantly,  and  thundered  back, 
Musa  flying  to  meet  him. 

41  Ho !  "  trumpeted  the  Count,  leaping  up,  "  Iftikhar's 
lance!  See!"  In  a  twinkling  the  lists  rang  as  never  be- 
fore. The  Spaniard  reeled  in  his  saddle ;  his  target  flew 
in  twain ;  he  clapped  his  right  hand  to  his  shoulder  and 
drew  it  away  —  blood ! 

Prince  Tancred  had  bounded  into  the  arena. 

"  Felony  !  "  his  shout ;  "the  emir  had  a  pointed  weapon. 
Sir  Musa  is  run  through.  Physicians  —  aid  !  " 

A  dozen  squires  and  grooms  buzzed  around  the  Spaniard, 
making  to  lift  him  from  his  horse.  He  sat  erect — dis- 
persed them  with  an  angry  gesture. 

"Nothing  —  Bismillakl  The  lance  turned  as  it  split 
the  target.  My  side  was  grazed,  and  a  little  blood  drawn 
—  it  is  nothing !  " 

"  Lead  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  this  way,"  raged  Tancred,  his 
green  eyes  fired  with  his  wrath.  The  emir  had  deliberately 
ridden  back  unbidden.  From  the  benches  came  count- 
less curses  and  jeers  —  Frankish  and  Arabic;  he  heeded 
none. 

"What  is  this  doing  of  yours?"  demanded  Tancred, 
very  grave.  "You  rode  with  a  pointed  lance — no  reed." 

The  Egyptian  drew  himself  up  very  proudly. 

"  By  the  soul  of  my  father  !  "  swore  he,  outstretching  his 
hand  to  Musa,  "  all  men  saw  we  were  riding  madly,  and 
paying  little  heed  to  what  was  thrust  in  our  hands.  Just 
as  we  struck,  I  saw  the  steel  —  too  late.  A  pointed  lance 
must  have  been  hidden  in  the  reeds.  Allah  be  praised, 
you  are  not  slain  ! " 

"  This  is  not  easy  to  believe,"  began  Tancred.  Musa 
cut  him  short :  — 


102  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

"  I  accept  his  oath  —  I  am  not  disabled.     Ride  again  !  " 

He  cantered  to  his  stand  at  the  head  of  the  lists. 
Tancred  returned  to  the  Count. 

"Where  is  Zeyneb,  the  emir's  dwarf?"  demanded 
Roger. 

"By  Our  Lady,"    cried  the   Prince,    with    a   glance  — 
"  gone  ! " 

"  After  him  !  "  thundered  Roger.  "  His  was  felony  or 
foolishness,  best  paid  by  hanging.  Lay  him  by  the  heels  !  " 

Men-at-arms  rushed  away ;  but  in  neither  the  multitude 
nor  the  city  found  they  Zeyneb. 

The  two  rode  once  more  —  met;  broke  fairly.  Men 
heard  their  voices  for  an  instant  raised  high  —  curse  and 
defiance,  doubtless.  Who  might  say  ?  A  second  time  — 
all  eyes  following.  Mary  saw  the  Spaniard  swing  nimbly 
in  his  saddle.  The  emir's  lance  overshot  harmlessly;  his 
own  snapped  fairly  on  the  target.  Another  mighty  shout 
—  Musa  had  won  ! 

"  Again  I  wish  you  glory  !  "  said  Mary,  as  she  fixed  a 
second  diamond  aigrette  on  the  cap  of  the  kneeling  Span- 
iard. "  May  God  ever  guard  you  as  now,  and  let  you  shed 
glory  on  your  friends  !  "  But  this  last  was  in  a  tone  few 
around  might  hear. 

"  And  I  protest,"  replied  Musa,  no  louder,  "  I  crave  no 
honor  greater  than  that  of  serving  you." 

Mary  blushed.  She  knew  the  Andalusian  meant  all  he 
said ;  yet  she  was  not  afraid,  as  she  had  been  if  Iftikhar 
or  De  Valmont  had  so  spoken.  A  page  served  Musa 
courteously,  bringing  him  a  basin  of  perfumed  water,  towels 
of  sweet  white  linen,  and  a  goblet  of  cool  Aquillan  wine. 
Then  he  sat  with  the  Count  and  his  party  during  the  noon 
interval,  protesting  that  Iftikhar  had  given  him  but  a  slight 
bruise  which  needed  no  stanching,  though  Mary  feared 
otherwise.  Very  tolerantly  he  listened  to  the  tale  of  Ger- 
land,  militant  Bishop  of  Girgenti,  how  in  his  diocese  he  had 
turned  his  cathedral  into  a  castle  —  the  unbelievers  being 
so  many.  The  squires  brought  fruit  and  cakes  and  wine. 
The  Greek  monks  —  Cosman  and  Eugenius  —  whom  Count 
Roger  patronized  for  their  poesy,  sang  a  new  hymn  in 


HOW   TRENCHEFER   DROVE   HOME  103 

honor  of  the  Blessed  Trinity ;  an  Arab  rival  presented  a 
tale  in  verse  of  the  Count's  late  raid  to  Malta,  and  so  the 
hour  passed.  The  multitude  scattered  a  little,  but  did  not 
disperse.  The  best  wine  had  been  kept  till  the  last.  What 
were  blunted  swords  or  riding  with  reed  lances,  beside  a 
duel  betwixt  gallant  knights  under  their  lady's  very  eye ; 
swords  whetted,  and  life  —  perchance  soul  —  at  stake! 

Mary  found  her  heart  beating  fast.  The  moments  crept 
slowly.  People,  she  knew,  were  staring  at  her, — point- 
ing, whispering  her  name.  Sweet  no  doubt  to  feel  that 
scarce  a  young  knight  but  would  nigh  give  his  right  hand 
for  a  gracious  speech  from  her,  hardly  a  woman  but  would 
almost  pawn  hope  of  heaven  to  sit  in  her  place  !  But 
when  the  pure  heart  of  the  Greek  turned  to  her  dying 
father  and  the  gallant  gentlemen  who  were  hazarding  body 
and  soul  on  her  account,  —  even  the  bright  sun  shone 
darkly. 

Richard  Longs  word  had  watched  the  tourney  from  a 
lodge  at  the  northern  end  of  the  lists  beside  his  fidgeting 
father  and  grave-faced  mother,  trying  to  enjoy  the  contests 
and  to  forget  himself  in  the  tale  Theroulde  told,  while  they 
waited,  of  the  redoubtable  paynim  knight  Chernubles,  who 
could  toss  four  mules'  loads  like  a  truss  of  straw.  Herbert 
growled  advice  in  his  ear.  Sebastian  said  never  a  word, 
but  Richard  knew  he  had  lain  all  that  night  before  the 
altar,  outstretched  like  a  cross  while  invoking  heavenly  le- 
gions to  speed  his  "  spiritual  son."  Only  when  Musa  and 
Iftikhar  contended,  Longsword  forgot  himself ;  thrilled  at 
his  friend's  peril,  rejoiced  at  his  victory,  and  swore  a  deep, 
if  silent,  oath  that  the  emir  should  not  go  scatheless  on  so 
poor  excusings. 

The  interval  ended  at  last  —  praised  be  all  saints  !  The 
heedless  chatter  of  the  ladies,  the  braying  laughs  of  the 
men-at-arms,  were  a  little  chilled.  Slowly  a  great  hush 
spread  across  the  lists.  Richard  kissed  father  and  mother, 
wrung  Herbert's  great  scarred  paw,  and  vanished  in  a  tent 
at  the  northern  end  of  the  close.  Here  waited  Sebastian 
and  friendly  Bishop  Robert  of  Evroult,  who  brought  the 


104  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Host  and  heard  Longsword's  confession  and  shrived  him. 
Richard  vowed  two  tall  candlesticks  of  good  red  gold  to 
Our  Lady  of  the  Victory,  if  all  went  well ;  made  testaments, 
if  the  day  went  ill.  "  Dominus  absolvat,"  the  Bishop  had 
said  ere  the  young  man  rose  from  his  knees.  But  Sebas- 
tian was  murmuring  in  his  heart,  "  Oh,  if  he  were  but  to 
ride  for  the  love  of  Christ  and  His  Holy  City,  and  not  for 
unchristian  hate  and  love  of  the  eyes  of  a  sinful  maid!  " 

Then  Musa  came  to  the  tent,  thrusting  all  the  Cefalu 
squires  aside,  and  himself  put  on  the  Norman's  hauberk, 
drew  the  chainwork  coif  over  the  head  for  shield  of  throat 
and  cheeks,  clapped  on  the  silvered  helm,  and  made  fast 
the  leather  laces,  till  Richard  was  hid  save  for  the  flashing 
of  his  eyes. 

When  all  was  ready  they  led  him  out,  and  Theroulde 
strode  before,  proud  to  play  the  knight's,  pursuivant. 
From  the  end  of  the  lists  the  jongleur  sounded  his 
challenge  :  — 

"  Ho,  Louis  de  Valmont !  Ho,  Louis  de  Valmont !  My 
master  awaits  you!  Here,  stands  the  good  knight,  Sir 
Richard  of  Cefalu,  armed  for  fair  battle,  ready  to  make 
good  on  his  body  against  cavalier  or  villain  who  denies 
that  Louis  de  Valmont  is  base-born,  unknightly,  unworthy 
to  wear  his  spurs  of  gold  !  " 

Whereupon,  from  the  other  end  of  the  arena,  advanced 
a  second  pursuivant,  Bernier  by  name,  a  dapper  Provencal 
in  a  fantastic  blue  cloak,  answering  shrilly  :  — 

"  Ho,  bold  man  !  Who  are  you  that  mock  Sir  Louis  de 
Valmont?  He  has  no  lance  save  for  his  peers." 

Then  Theroulde  threw  back,  still  advancing  :  — 

"  So  tell  your  master  to  be  well  shriven,  for  my  Lord 
Richard  of  Cefalu  swears  he  will  number  him  among  the 
saints  ere  sunset !  " 

And  Bernier  paid  in  return  :  — 

"  Foolish  crow  cawing  folly,  you  are !  Not  the  saints, 
but  the  very  devil,  shall  be  Richard  Longsword's  company 
this  night ! " 

But  Theroulde  was  undaunted,  and  boasted  haughtily  :  — 

"  My  master's  sword  is  trenchant  as  Roland's  '  Durin- 


HOW  TRENCHEFER   DROVE   HOME  105 

dana ' ;  his  strength  that  of  all  the  paladins  in  one.     He 
is  terrible  as  King  Oberon  with  all  his  magic  host !  " 

So  they  bandied  their  vauntings,  and  the  crowd  roared 
in  mirth  at  each  sally,  until  two  trumpets  pealed  forth,  one 
from  either  end  of  the  lists,  and  out  from  the  tents  came 
the  combatants  in  full  armor,  a  herald  at  each  bridle. 
Louis  de  Valmont  was  a  notable  figure,  mailed.  He  be- 
strode a  high-stepping  white  destrer,  with  huge  crupper, 
hair  like  silk,  eyes  like  fire,  ears  carefully  cropped  away 
after  the  French  fashion.  The  high  saddle  glittered  with 
gilding  and  chased  work  ;  the  brass  knob  of  the  kite- 
shaped  shield  on  the  left  arm  shone,  and  the  steel  cover- 
ing flashed  as  though  of  flame.  Louis  wore  a  hauberk 
enamelled  red,  with  black  wire  embroidered  into  the 
sleeves ;  but  the  red  crest  of  his  tall  helm  was  brighter 
than  all  the  rest. 

No  less  bravely  panoplied  in  his  white  hauberk  sat  Long- 
sword,  but  no  skill  of  his  could  give  grace  to  the  awkward 
gait  and  uncouth  form  of  Rollo.  A  great  wave  of  jeering 
laughter  swept  down  the  benches  as  the  black  monster 
passed. 

"  Ho,  steed  of  Cefalu  !     Are  you  an  unhorned  ox  ?  " 
"  Defend  us,  saints  !     This  horse  is  sired  by  Satan  !  " 
"  His  limbs  are  iron,  they  drag  so  heavily !  " 
These  and  a  hundred  more  shouts  flew  out.     Men  did 
not   see    Richard's   muscles  grow   hard  as  steel,  and  his 
face  set  like  rock,  when  he  caught  their  mockery;    for 
every  insult  to  the  horse  was  the  like  to  the  master.     But 
the  vows  that  rose  then  from  his  heart  boded  little  good  to 
Louis  de  Valmont;  for  they  were  sparks  from  the  anvil 
of  a  mighty  spirit.     Neither  did  he  know  —  as  Mary  Kur- 
kuas  knew — that  the  most  battle-scarred  knights  in  the 
Count's    pavilion   jeered   not,  but   muttered   darkly ;    and 
Prince  Tancred  whispered   to  Roger:   "They  are  wrong 
when  they  say  De  Valmont  has  the  better  chance.     I  know 
a  horse  and  a  man  at  sight,  —  and  here  are  both." 

They  brought  the  two  knights  to  the  barrier  opposite  the 
Count's  pavilion.  Very  lightly,  though  armed,  the  twain 
dismounted,  and  stood  side  by  side  before  their  suzerain. 


106  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  Sir  knights,"  quoth  Roger,  soberly,  "  I  like  this  combat 
little.  You  do  ill,  Sir  Richard,  to  seek  quarrel  with  a 
cavalier  of  long  renown;  you  too,  Sir  Louis,  to  press  a  contest 
that  will  breed  small  glory  if  won,  much  sorrow  if  lost." 

Before  either  could  reply,  Mary  Kurkuas  arose  and  spoke 
also.  "Since  on  my  account  you  are  at  strife,  as  you  love 
me,  I  command,  even  at  this  late  hour,  put  wrath  by.  Be 
reconciled,  or  perchance  whoever  wins,  I  will  forbid  you 
both  my  face  forever." 

And  Richard,  as  he  looked  on  those  red  cheeks,  the 
brown  hair  blown  out  from  the  purple  fillet  and  waving  in 
little  tresses  to  the  wind,  nigh  felt  a  spell  spread  over  him,— 
was  half -ready  to  bow  obedient  and  forget  all  hatred,  not  to 
displeasure  so  fair  a  vision.  But  Satan  had  entered  into 
Louis  de  Valmont's  heart,  prompting  him  to  answer,  hollow 
and  fierce,  from  the  depths  of  his  helmet. 

"  Sweet  lady,  gracious  lord,  I  am  touched  in  honor. 
Gladly  will  I  put  all  by  with  Sir  Richard,  if  only  he  will 
confess  freely  that  he  spoke  presumptuously  for  one  of  his 
few  years,  and  was  indiscreet  in  affecting  to  cross  a  cavalier 
of  my  fame  in  quest  of  gallantry." 

If  Louis  had  been  bent  on  dashing  the  last  bridge  of 
retreat,  he  had  succeeded. 

"  After  Sir  Louis's  words,"  came  the  reply  from  Richard's 
casque  at  its  haughty  poise,  "  I  see  I  need  make  no  answer. 
Let  us  ride,  my  lord,  and  St.  Michael  speed  us ! " 

The  Count  frowned  upon  the  Auvergner  :  — 

"  Except  you  call  back  your  words,  Sir  Louis,  I  must 
perforce  order  the  combat.  Yet  you  may  well  seek  honor- 
able reconciliation." 

"  I  have  offered  my  terms,  my  lord,"  returned  Louis  ; 
and  deliberately  mounting,  he  rode  to  his  end  of  the  lists. 

Tancred  had  stepped  beside  Richard. 

"  Fair  sir,"  said  he,  softly,  "you  are  a  young  cavalier,  but 
a  right  knightly  one.  Trust  in  St.  Michael  and  your  own 
stout  heart.  De  Valmont  seeks  your  life,  but  do  not  fear. 
And  know  this :  I  pass  for  a  keen  judge  of  man  and  maid, — 
if  it  is  you  that  conquer,  the  Princess  Mary  will  not  greatly 
grieve." 


HOW  TRENCHEFER  DROVE   HOME  107 

"  Holy  Mother,  how  know  you  this  ? "  and  Richard's 
hands  dropped  from  the  bridle.  But  Tancred  only  smiled. 

"  Does  a  woman  speak  only  with  her  lips  ?  I  saw  your 
sword-play  in  Italy,  and  learned  to  love  you.  And  now  I 
tell  you  this,  thinking  it  may  make  your  blade  dance  swifter. 
Go,  then,  —  and  all  the  saints  go  with  you  !  " 

"Let  God  judge  betwixt  them;  and  let  them  do  their 
battle !  "  announced  Count  Roger,  gravely,  while  the  com- 
batants were  led  to  their  places.  Before  each  horse  at- 
tendants stretched  a  cord,  made  fast  to  posts.  Others 
measured  two  lances  of  equal  length,  —  lances  not  blunted, 
but  with  bright  steel  heads  and  little  pennons,  Louis's  with 
golden  border ;  Longsword's,  green  blazoned  with  a  silver 
lion.  Then  a  herald  made  sure  that  neither  knight  had 
fastened  himself  to  his  saddle. 

The  attendants  scattered  from  the  lists.  De  Valmont's 
horse  was  pawing  and  sniffing  uneasily,  but  Rollo  stood 
firm  as  a  rock.  The  champions  sat  face  to  face,  featureless, 
silent  as  of  granite.  No  chatter  now  in  the  pavilions. 
Theroulde  broke  the  stillness  with  his  cry,  "  Go  forward, 
brave  son  of  a  valiant  father ! "  And  Bernier  forced  a 
broad  jest  as  he  glanced  at  the  ladies,  "Joy  here  to  pick 
out  one's  wife  !  " 

Richard  was  very  calm.  The  moment  had  come.  He 
and  Louis  de  Valmont  were  face  to  face,  under  the  eyes  of 
Mary  Kurkuas.  Betwixt  his  helmet  bars  he  could  see  that 
wonderful  face,  the  head  bent  forward,  the  eyes  brighter  by 
day  than  ever  stars  by  night,  —  at  least  to  him.  Holy 
saints !  what  deed  could  he  not  do  with  that  gaze  upon 
him,  with  the  love  of  the  Greek  staked  upon  his  strong  arm 
and  ready  eye  !  "  For  Mary  Kurkuas  !  "  That  was  his 
battle-cry,  though  sounded  only  in  his  soul.  It  became 
stiller — he  could  hear  Rollo's  deep  breathing.  Count 
Roger  had  turned  to  Bishop  Gerland.  The  prelate  rose, 
held  on  high  a  brazen  crucifix,  at  which  both  champions 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  their  lance  points.  Four 
men  with  hatchets  approached  the  cords  before  the  chargers. 

"In  nomine  Patris,  et  Ft/it,  et  Spiritus  Sancti.  Amen" 
came  the  words  slowly ;  and  at  the  last,  Roger  signed  to 


io8  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

the  four.  "  Cut !  "  his  command.  The  axes  fell  as  one. 
Their  sound  was  hid  by  the  bursting  tumult.  Quick  as 
light  the  horses  caught  the  greensward  with  mighty  strides. 
Behind,  the  dust  spumed  thick.  As  they  flew,  each  rider 
swung  lightly  forward,  lance  level  with  thigh,  shield  over 
the  crouching  chest. 

Crash !  Both  steeds  were  hurled  on  haunches,  and 
struggled,  tearing  the  ground.  The  riders  reeled,  stag- 
gered in  the  saddle.  Then  with  a  mighty  tug  at  the  reins, 
brought  their  beasts  standing,  and  rode  apart,  —  in  the 
hands  of  each  a  broken  butt,  on  the  ground  the  flinders  of 
stout  hornbeam  lances. 

Din  unspeakable  rang  along  the  lists,  as  the  two  swung 
back  to  their  stations.  No  more  banter  and  jeers  at  Rollo. 
Old  Herbert,  whose  eyes  had  danced  with  every  gallop, 
muttered  in  the  ear  of  poor  Lady  Margaret :  — 

"  Good  cheer,  sweet  lady  !  The  lad  is  a  good  lad.  Did 
you  see  ?  The  Auvergner  was  half  slung  from  the  saddle, 
but  Richard  met  his  lance  like  a  rock." 

They  brought  new  lances  to  the  knights,  and,  while  both 
waited  for  breath,  Bernier  came  down  the  lists  with  his 
master's  message. 

"  My  lord  bids  me  say,  fair  knight,"  declared  he  to 
Longsword,  "that  he  loves  good  jousting  and  did  not 
expect  so  smart  a  tilt.  Yet  he  warns  Sir  Richard,  in  fair 
courtesy  and  no  jesting,  he  will  make  this  next  bout  Sir 
Richard's  last — therefore,  if  there  be  any  parting  message 
or  token  — 

Sebastian,  who  stood  by,  cut  him  short. 

"  Bear  this  back  to  Louis  de  Valmont,  the  murderous 
man  of  sin :  It  is  written,  '  Let  not  him  that  putteth  on 
his  armor,  boast  like  him  that  taketh  it  off.' '''  And  while 
Bernier  was  returning,  half  crestfallen,  the  good  cleric 
was  muttering:  "Ah,  blessed  Mother  of  Pity,  spare 
Richard,  thy  poor  child.  Make  him  conscious  of  his  sin 

—  his  unholy  passion,  and  presumption.     Yet  —  it  will  be 
a  rare  thing  to  see  De  Valmont  on  his  back.     Holy  saints 

—  what  do  I  say  !  " 

Again  they  rode ;  again  the  last  vision  before  Richard's 


HOW  TRENCHEFER  DROVE  HOME  109 

eyes,  ere  Rollo  shot  on  the  course,  was  that  figure,  —  white 
face  and  brown  hair,  and  those  eyes  upon  him.  All  men 
knew  Louis  spurred  with  Satan  behind  him  on  the  charger. 
Another  shivering  crash  —  more  lances  broken.  When 
they  parted,  both  shields  were  dinted  by  the  shock.  Many 
heard  knights  cry  that  the  two  were  riding  more  madly 
than  ever.  A  third  time  —  behold  !  Louis  de  Valmont 
had  been  half  lifted  from  his  saddle ;  one  foot  had  lost  its 
stirrup ;  but  Longsword  sat  as  a  tower.  Those  at  the 
southern  end  heard  the  Auvergner  cursing  his  squires  and 
grooms,  calling  for  a  new  horse,  and  invoking  aid  of  all 
powers  in  heaven  and  hell  when  next  he  rode. 

A  great  hush  again  down  all  the  lists.  The  pursuivants 
had  no  heart  to  cry.  For  a  fourth  time  Richard  Long- 
sword  and  Louis  de  Valmont  sat  face  to  face,  —  and  rode. 
The  horses  shot  like  bolts  of  lightning.  The  crash  sounded 
from  barrier  to  barrier.  In  the  whirling  murk  of  dust  one 
could  see  naught ;  but  out  of  it  all  sounded  a  shout  of 
triumph,  —  Richard's  voice :  "  St.  Michael  and  Mary 
Kurkuas  !  "  Then  while  men  blinked,  the  dust  was  settled, 
and  Louis  de  Valmont  was  rising  from  the  sand,  smitten 
clean  from  his  horse.  None  beheld  his  face ;  but  his  mad 
cry  of  rage  they  heard,  as  his  great  sword  flashed  forth, 
when  on  foot  he  ran  toward  his  foe.  But  lightly  as  a  cat, 
Longsword  had  bounded  from  the  saddle,  faced  the  Au- 
vergner, whom  the  tall  Norman  towered  high  above ;  and 
for  the  first  time  the  multitude  saw  the  sun  glint  on  the 
long  blade  of  Trenchefer.  Right  before  Roger's  pavilion, 
under  Mary's  eye,  they  fought,  leaping  in  armor  as  though 
in  silken  vest,  making  their  huge  swords  dance  in  their 
hands  like  willow  wands.  The  blade  of  De  Valmont 
rained  down  blows  as  of  hail  upon  the  bowing  sedges. 
Fury  and  wounded  pride  sped  might  through  his  arm. 
For  a  twinkling  Longsword  gave  way  before  his  furious 
onset ;  as  quickly  stood  firm,  paying  blow  for  blow.  Not 
for  life  the  Auvergner  battled,  —  for  dearer  than  life,  — 
his  knightly  name.  The  best  lance  in  the  South  Country 
dismounted,  then  mastered  by  a  boy  scarce  knighted  ?  A 
thousand  deaths  better !  Thrice,  all  his  strength  flew  with 


no  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

a  downright  stroke,  —  a  smithy's  sledge  less  crushing. 
But  when  he  smote  on  Trenchefer  the  steels  rang  sharp ; 
the  blow  was  turned.  From  under  their  helms  each  beheld 
madness  in  his  foeman's  eyes,  and  flashed  back  equal  mad- 
ness. Richard  fought  the  more  slowly,  his  casque  dented 
and  his  shield ;  but  the  Valencia  mail  was  proof.  After 
the  first,  he  yielded  not  a  step ;  and  at  each  blow  par- 
ried, at  each  stout  stroke  paid,  the  saints,  if  none  other, 
heard  him  mutter  across  his  teeth :  "  This,  to  win  Mary 
Kurkuas  !  This,  for  the  love  of  the  Greek !  " 

But  still  the  Proven9al  pressed,  and  still  the  Norman 
held  him.  Mary  saw  De  Valmont's  blade  shun  Trenche- 
fer. His  sword  half  turned  as  Richard  attempted  parry, 
—  but  smote  the  Norman's  helm-crest.  Mary  almost 
thought  she  could  see  the  fire-spark  leap  in  bright  day. 
But  ere  she  could  thrill  with  dread,  Longsword  had 
staggered,  recovered,  returned  the  stroke.  Quick,  deep 
as  from  huge  bellows,  heard  she  their  breaths.  Each 
moment  her  heart  cried,  "  All  is  over  !  "  as  some  doughty 
blow  fell.  But  it  would  be  parried,  or  turned  on  the  good 
mail.  On  they  fought,  —  fought  till  mild  women  rose 
from  the  benches  and  shouted  as  not  before  in  that  day's 
mad  games ;  and  old  cavaliers,  who  set  a  battle  before  a 
feast,  stood  also  with  a  terrible  light  in  their  eyes,  blessing 
the  saints  for  showing  them  such  sword-play  !  As  Mary 
watched,  her  thoughts  raced  thick  and  fast :  now  she 
longed  to  laugh,  now  to  weep  ;  now  only  to  hear  no  more 
of  the  click  and  clash  of  those  long  swords.  Would  it 
never  end  ? 

But  now  Prince  Tancred  was  again  with  his  head  beside 
Count  Roger.  "  The  Auvergner  fails  !  "  Men  began  to 
cry  out  that  De  Valmont  no  longer  gave  back  the  Nor- 
man's blows  ;  only  parried.  And,  of  a  sudden,  Mary  saw 
the  iron  tower  of  Richard  Longsword,  that  had  stood  firm 
so  long,  leap  as  with  new  life.  Twice  Trenchefer  sprang 
high,  and  crashed  upon  De  Valmont.  Twice  the  Auverg- 
ner tottered.  Thrice  —  De  Valmont's  guard  shivered  as  a 
rush  —  through  shield,  hauberk,  gorget  cleft  the  Vikings' 
blade.  The  shield  flew  in  twain.  The  Provencal  fell  with 


HOW  TRENCHEFER  DROVE  HOME     in 

a  clash  of  mail,  and,  as  he  reeled,  Mary  could  see  the  spout 
of  blood  where  the  sword  had  bitten  the  shoulder. 

The  Count  was  standing.  He  beckoned  to  Longsword  — 
tried  to  speak.  One  mighty  shout  from  Frank  and  Mos- 
lem drowned  all  else. 

"  Richard  Longsword  !     Richard  of  Cefalu !  " 

All  the  lists  were  calling  it.  The  bright  mantles  and 
gauzy  veils  were  all  a-flutter.  Richard  stood  over  his 
adversary,  Trenchefer  swinging  in  his  hand.  Again  the 
Count  beckoned  —  still  uproar.  Roger  flung  his  white 
judge's  wand  into  the  arena. 

"  Ho  !  Ho  !  "  thundered  he,  —  and  there  was  hush  at 
last. 

"Sir  Richard  Longsword,"  spoke  the  Count,  "you  have 
won  after  such  sword-play  as  I  have  never  seen  before. 
De  Valmont's  life  is  yours,  if  still  he  lives.  Yet  if  you 
will,  kill  not  —  though  he  promised  you  small  mercy.  For 
he  is  a  gallant  Cavalier,  and  proved  to-day  a  mighty  knight, 
though  no  victor." 

"And  I,"  returned  Longsword,  under  his  helm,  "give 
him  his  life.  Let  him  live — live  to  remember  how  Richard 
of  Cefalu  humbled  him  before  the  eyes  of  Mary  Kurkuas! " 

So  he  turned  to  walk  to  the  end  of  the  lists,  but  others 
swarmed  about  him ;  Musa  foremost,  who  unlaced  his 
casque  in  a  trice,  and  kissed  him  heartily  on  one  cheek, 
while  Herbert  croaked  and  shed  great  bull  tears  on  the 
other.  Prince  Tancred  ran  down  to  him,  and  many  nobles 
more,  while  Baron  William  and  his  dame  sat  very  stately 
in  their  lodge,  their  hearts  full,  but  saying  nothing  —  a 
thousand  eyes  upon  them.  Count  Roger  had  turned  to 
Mary :  — 

"  My  princess,  I  too  must  speak  with  this  new  paladin ; 
and  you  need  have  no  shame  to  go  with  me." 

The  Greek's  forehead  was  very  red  ;  but  while  her  words 
were  hanging  on  her  tongue,  a  serving-lad  from  Monreale 
touched  her  mantle  :  — 

"Gracious  mistress  —  my  lord,  the  Caesar  Manuel,  is 
newly  stricken,  and  lies  very  low.  He  sends  for  you." 

Mary  bowed  to  the  Count :  — 


ii2  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  My  lord,  you  see  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  go  to  Sir 
Richard.  Yet  tell  him  I  have  prayed  long  he  might  have 
no  hurt.  And  now  I  must  go  to  my  father." 

So  Roger  went  down  alone,  and  led  the  great  throng 
that  swept  around  the  victor  as  amid  the  din  of  harps, 
viols,  and  kettledrums  uncounted  they  bore  him  to  his 
tent.  Few  saw  the  squires  that  carried  Louis  de  Valmont 
away.  He  still  breathed.  A  Saracen  physician  said  he 
was  fearfully  smitten,  but  that  life  was  strong  within  him, 
and  he  would  live.  But  who  then  cared  for  the  fate  of  the 
vanquished  ? 

They  bore  Richard  back  to  Palermo  in  high  procession. 
All  the  knights  swore  that  he  had  outdone  all  the  cavaliers 
of  the  tourney,  and  must  receive  the  chief  prize.  A  great 
banquet  and  dance  was  held  at  the  castle ;  the  halls  rang 
with  music  and  the  clink  of  wine-cups;  the  floors  shook 
beneath  a  thousand  twinkling  feet.  The  young  knights  to 
prove  their  hardihood  danced  in  the  armor  worn  all  day,  — 
chain  mail  jingling  in  time  to  the  castanets.  The  jon- 
gleurs sang  new  chansons ;  the  ladies  blazed  in  brighter  silks 
and  velvet;  a  myriad  flambeaux  flickered  overall.  Only 
Mary  Kurkuas  was  not  there,  nor  was  Emir  Iftikhar, 
delight  of  the  ladies.  To  Richard  and  to  Musa  there 
were  homage  and  flattery  enough  to  addle  wiser  wits 
than  theirs.  Richard  danced  till  the  morn  was  paling, 
despite  two  great  welts  on  his  forehead.  Two  young 
ladies — "flowers  of  beauty,"  the  jongleurs  cried  —  brought 
to  him  the  prize  of  honor,  a  shield  set  with  jewels  and 
blazoned  with  four  stripes  of  gold.  Each  added  to  her 
pleasant  words  a  kiss.  In  truth,  not  a  cavalier's  daughter 
there  that  night  would  have  said  nay  to  Richard  Long- 
sword,  had  he  prayed  for  anything.  When  at  full  dawn 
he  fell  asleep,  it  was  to  dream  of  gallant  sword-play,  throb- 
bing music,  and  bright  eyes,  but  the  eyes  were  always 
those  of  Mary  Kurkuas. 


CHAPTER  X 

HOW    IFTIKHAR    SAID    FAREWELL    TO    SICILY 

RICHARD  LONGSWORD  spent  the  winter  in  Palermo. 
There  had  come  a  letter  oversea  from  his  grandfather, 
old  Baron  Gaston  of  St.  Julien  in  Auvergne,  beseeching 
his  daughter  to  send  to  France  her  son,  who,  fame  had  it, 
was  a  mighty  cavalier.  He  was  needed  to  set  right  his 
barony,  for  he  himself  grew  weak  and  his  vassals  quarrel- 
some. But  though  Richard's  eyes  danced  when  he  thought 
of  France,  and  he  won  from  Musa  a  pledge  to  postpone 
any  Egyptian  service  till  the  new  adventure  was  well  over, 
he  lingered  in  Sicily.  For  the  life  of  Caesar  Manuel  that 
winter  ebbed  fast.  In  early  spring  came  a  stately  dromon 
streaming  with  purple  flags,  to  bear  him  back  to  Constanti- 
nople, and  a  great  letter  in  vermilion  ink  sealed  with  gold, 
pledging  the  favor  of  Alexius  to  his  "  dear  cousin,"  and 
entreating  his  return  to  the  palace  by  the  Golden  Gate. 
But  on  the  day  the  imperial  messenger  landed,  they  were 
bearing  Manuel  Kurkuas  to  his  last  rest.  The  Greek 
Bishop  of  Palermo  was  there,  also  Count  Roger,  Tancred, 
and  many  seigneurs.  Then  when  it  was  over,  and  Mary  had 
seen  all  and  done  all,  with  the  white  face  and  dry  eyes  of 
those  true  women  who  can  weep  for  little  things  but  not 
for  great,  she  found  herself  alone  in  the  world  and  utterly 
desolate.  The  house  of  Kurkuas  had  been  a  decaying 
stock.  Even  at  Constantinople  her  relatives  were  distant. 
Only  in  Provence,  at  La  Haye,  dwelt  her  uncle,  whom 
she  had  never  seen,  —  brother  of  her  long-dead  mother. 
Either  she  must  go  to  him  or  return  to  Constantinople, 
where  were  many  ministers  and  admirers,  but  only  the 

"3 


n4  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

Princess  Anna  to  be  her  true  friend.  Yet  Mary  would  not 
leave  Monreale.  The  Palace  of  the  Diadem  was  hers, 
All  day  long  she  would  sit  in  its  twilight  courts  beside  the 
fountain,  reading  or  trying  to  read,  with  only  Sylvana  for 
companion.  When  Richard  or  Musa  went  each  day  to 
ask  for  her,  she  would  send  kind  greetings ;  but  said  she 
could  not  see  them.  Sylvana,  however,  was  a  wise  woman 
as  became  her  years  ;  and  one  day,  behold !  Musa  was  led 
into  the  court  of  the  fountain  unheralded,  and  the  princess 
must  needs  speak  with  him. 

"  Ah !  Sir  Spaniard,"  said  she,  with  a  wan  smile,  "  for 
my  father's  memory  I  would  have  bidden  you  stay  away. 
I  am  in  no  mood  for  your  songs  of  the  orange  groves  by 
the  Darro.  Yet "  —  and  here  flashed  forth  her  old  arch 
brightness  — "  now  that  Sylvana  has  circumvented  me, 
I  am  very  glad  you  are  here !  " 

Musa  smiled  sweetly  and  gravely. 

"  Dear  lady,  would  that  all  your  sorrows  were  but  mon- 
sters, that  I  might  slay  them.     What  may  I  proffer  you, — 
music  ?     But  your  heart  is  too  heavy.     Words  ?     The  lips 
are  but  unskilful  revealers  of  the  soul.     And  mine," —  he 
added  with  a  sincere  glance,  "is  very  full  for  you." 

"  Do  as  you  will ! "  cried  the  lady,  suddenly;  "  say  as  you 
will.  Look!  My  father  is  dead;  at  Constantinople  I 
have  few  that  love  me.  What  matters  it  what  befall  me  ? 
I  am  alone  —  alone;  and  to  whom  am  I  a  care  ?" 

"  Brightness  of  the  Greeks,"  replied  the  Andalusian, 
"  say  not,  you  are  alone ;  say  not,  you  are  a  care  to  none. 
To  me  you  are  a  friend,  and"  —  he  went  on  quite  steadily 
—  "  much  more  than  a  friend  to  another." 

And  Mary  looked  at  him  very  steadily  also,  when  she 
replied:  "  It  is  true.  When  Richard  Longsword  comes  to 
me,  I  will  have  something  to  say." 

Musa  rode  from  Monreale  at  a  racing  gallop  that  after- 
noon. All  the  staid  Moslem  burghers  stared  at  him  as  he 
pounded  up  the  city  streets;  and  just  as  the  sun  was  sink- 
ing Richard  Longsword  was  leaping  from  the  steaming 
Rollo  without  the  gate  at  the  Palace  of  the  Diadem.  When 


HOW  IFTIKHAR  SAID  FAREWELL  TO  SICILY     115 

Bardas  led  him  within,  he  heard  the  princess's  little  wind- 
organ  throbbing  and  quavering.  He  stood  in  the  court, 
and  saw  her  bending  over  the  keys,  while  all  the  silver 
pipes  were  ringing.  The  notes,  marked  red  and  green  on 
the  parchment,  were  spread  before  her.  Sylvana  had  her 
hand  on  the  bellows,  as  her  mistress  sang  the  mad  old 
pagan  chorus  of  Euripides:  — 

"  O  Eros,  O  Eros,  how  melts  love's  yearning 

From  thine  eyes  when  the  sweet  spell  witcheth  the  heart 
Of  them  against  whom  thou  hast  marched  in  thy  might ! 
Not  me,  not  me,  for  mine  hurt  do  thou  smite, 
My  life's  heart-music  to  discord  turning. 
For  never  so  hotly  the  flame-spears  dart, 
Nor  so  fleet  are  the  star-shot  arrows  of  light, 
As  the  shaft  from  thy  fingers  that  speedeth  its  flight, 
As  the  flame  of  the  Love-queen's  bolts  fierce  burning, 
O  Eros,  the  child  of  Zeus  who  art !  " 

Richard  stepped  softly  across  the  rugs.  The  bell-like 
voice  died  away,  the  organ  notes  wandered,  were  still. 
Mary  rose  from  the  music.  Flushed  indeed  was  her  face, 
but  her  voice  was  steady. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  Sir  Richard !  "  she  said.  "  I  am 
glad  you  have  come." 

But  Richard,  foolish  fellow,  had  run  to  her,  and  crushed 
her  to  his  breast  in  his  giant  arms,  and  was  trying  to  say 
something  with  his  lips  very  near  to  hers.  And  Mary  felt 
his  touch  and  kiss  as  blest  as  a  heaven-sent  fire. 

"O  sweetest  of  the  sweet!"  he  was  crying,  "  what  have 
I  done  that  I  should  have  such  joy  ?  For  one  such  touch 
from  you,  I  would  have  beaten  down  a  thousand  De 
Valmonts." 

"  And  do  you  think,  Richard,"  said  she,  piteously,  "  that 
all  I  love  in  you  is  this?"  —  and  she  pressed  her  hand 
around  the  knotted  muscles  of  his  arm.  Then  she  began 
to  weep  and  laugh  at  once,  and  they  both  wept  and  laughed, 
like  the  children  that  they  were  ;  and  Sylvana  smiled  softly 
to  her  sly  old  self,  and  bore  away  the  organ. 

"  And  what  was  in  your  heart,  Mary,"  cried  the  Norman, 
when  he  found  a  steady  tongue,  "  that  night  when  you  held 
the  goblet  to  my  lips  at  Cefalu  ?  " 


n6  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

"  And  what  was  in  yours  when  you  drank  ?  Oh,  I  was 
all  madness  that  night.  I  said  to  myself,  '  Here  is  the 
kind  of  man  I  would  fain  be  born,  —  with  a  twinkling  eye 
and  an  arm  like  iron.'  Had  not  my  father's  gaze  been  on 
me,  St.  Theodore  knows  what  I  would  have  done !  What 
with  your  head  so  close  to  mine,  and  the  wild  deeds  of  the 
day  making  us  as  friends  for  a  thousand  years  !  But  now," 
and  she  began  to  laugh  again  softly,  "you  will  have  to 
tame  me  a  great  deal.  I  may  look  a  wood-dove,  but  I 
have  the  heart  of  a  hawk.  It  will  be  a  long  time  before 
I  can  be  content  to  obey  any  one ; >v  then  with  a  naughty 
toss  of  her  pretty  head,  —  "  even  you." 

"  Ah ! "  exclaimed  Richard,  "  it  is  I  that  need  the  tam- 
ing ;  I,  whose  wits  are  in  my  hands,  who  love  the  ring  of 
good  steel  better  than  all  Musa's  roundelays." 

"  Let  us  not  settle  too  much  of  the  future,"  answered  she, 
pertly ;  "  we  shall  perhaps  know  each  other  better  as  time 
speeds."  So  they  twittered  and  laughed,  till  long  after  the 
last  bird-song  had  died  into  silence,  the  last  bulbul  had  folded 
his  weary  head  under  a  wing.  A  full  moon  was  overhead 
when  Richard  swung  onto  the  back  of  Rollo.  His  lips 
were  still  sweet  with  the  nectar  of  a  warm  kiss ;  the  wind 
was  just  creeping  over  the  orange  grove,  which  was  whis- 
pering softly.  Here  and  there  the  fireflies  flashed  out  tiny 
beacons.  Rollo  threw  up  his  great  muzzle,  and  shook  his 
raven  mane,  as  if  he  knew,  rascal  that  he  was,  of  the  joy 
in  his  master's  heart.  Then,  swift  as  the  north  wind  he 
flew  toward  Palermo,  and  for  Richard,  as  he  rode,  the 
night  shone  as  a  summer's  morn. 

The  gossips  at  Palermo  bandied  the  tale  about,  almost 
before  those  concerned  in  it  knew  it  themselves.  No  one 
marvelled  ;  all  said  that  Richard  Longsword  had  fairly  won 
his  prize,  and  Mary  Kurkuas  would  never  have  shame  for 
her  lord.  Only  the  Emir  Iftikhar  communed  darkly  with 
his  own  heart,  and  with  certain  sworn  followers  of  his  in 
the  Saracen  guard.  The  good  syndic  Al-Bakri  was  a 
mighty  newsmonger.  A  certain  neighbor  brought  him  a 
story ;  he  in  turn  dealt  it  out  to  Musa ;  and  the  Spaniard 


HOW  IFTIKHAR  SAID  FAREWELL  TO  SICILY     117 

gave  Richard  Longsword  strong  reasons  for  wearing  his 
Valencia  mail  shirt  under  his  bleaunt.  Baron  William  had 
returned  to  Cefalu.  But  when  a  letter  came  from  his  son, 
the  seigneur  sent  straightway,  bidding  Richard  come  home, 
and  bring  with  him  Mary  Kurkuas,  who  it  was  not  meet 
should  remain  alone,  with  only  Sylvana  and  the  serving- 
men  and  maids  at  Monreale.  Richard,  hasty  mortal, 
would  have  had  her  to  church  before  setting  out.  But 
Mary  shook  her  head.  The  turf  was  not  yet  green  over 
the  grave  of  the  Caesar,  and  she  owed  a  duty  to  her  moth- 
er's kinsfolk  in  Provence.  If  Richard  was  to  go  to  Au- 
vergne,  she  would  go  with  him  to  La  Haye,  the  barony  of 
her  uncle,  and  there  might  be  the  wedding.  So  with  Syl- 
vana as  duenna,  away  they  went  to  Cefalu.  There  dear 
Lady  Margaret  opened  her  heart  wide  to  the  motherless 
Greek  ;  and  they  spent  many  a  merry  day,  with  guests  and 
good  company  coming  from  far  and  near  to  drink  at  the 
Baron's  board,  and  to  pledge  the  health  of  "  the  peerless 
lady,  Mary  Kurkuas,  the  fairest  of  her  age  in  all  Sicily 
and  France."  Day  after  day  Richard  and  Mary  rode 
forth  together  ;  for  the  Greek  was  as  mad  a  rider  as  though 
born  on  the  saddle.  The  white  falcon  was  on  her  wrist ; 
they  chased  the  luckless  quarry  over  thicket  and  brake, 
while  Longsword  laughed  as  he  saw  how  Mary  dashed 
beside  him.  And  there  were  long  evenings,  when  in  the 
soft  gloaming,  and  no  other  was  near,  they  could  sit  in 
Lady  Margaret's  bower  outside  the  castle  walls,  with  the 
sleeping  flowers  clinging  all  about,  and  a  little  stream  tum- 
bling gently  in  the  ravine  below.  Here  every  breath  was 
eloquence,  every  word  a  poem,  and  the  voice  of  Mary 
sweeter  than  Musa's  lute.  Only  Mary,  —  for  Richard  was 
all  blind  these  days,  —  noticed  that  Musa  and  Herbert  were 
ever  watchful ;  that  Musa  always  insisted  that  his  friend 
wear  the  Valencia  shirt ;  that  even  when  the  lovers  rode 
off  seemingly  alone,  there  would  be  Musa  or  Herbert  or 
Nasr  riding  within  bowshot. 

All  the  castle  had  opened  its  heart  to  Mary,  —  even  Se- 
bastian ;  though  the  churchman  did  not  capitulate  without 
a  struggle. 


n8  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"Lady,"  said  he  once  to  her,  "you  Greeks  are  in  peril 
of  your  souls.  You  communicate  with  leavened,  not  un- 
leavened, bread,  for  which  you  may  all  go  to  perdition ; 
and  in  your  creed  you  do  omit  Filioque,  in  speaking  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  which  I  do  conceive  is  the  sin  whereof  Our 
Lord  speaks,  saying,  '  He  that  shall  blaspheme  against  the 
Holy  Ghost  hath  never  forgiveness,  but  is  in  danger  of 
eternal  damnation.'  And  for  this  sin  Pope  Leo  Third  had 
your  patriarch  excommunicated,  and  delivered  over  to  be 
buffeted  by  Satan." 

But  Mary  only  answered  very  gravely :  — 

"  Are  not  men  created  in  God's  image  ? " 

"Certainly,  daughter,"  replied  Sebastian,  soberly. 

"And  is  Nasr,  the  abominable  devil-visaged  Saracen 
here,  a  man  ?  " 

"A  man,"  began  poor  Sebastian,  wavering,  "yet  created 
for  —  " 

"  Surely,"  cried  Mary,  cutting  him  short,  "  God  has  a 
strange  image,  if  it  is  like  Nasr.  Unless,  indeed,  he  be 
of  the  race  Vergilius  the  heretical  philosopher  describes : 
born  in  the  Antipodes,  not  descended  from  Adam,  and  for 
whom  no  Redeemer  died." 

"  Daughter,  daughter,"  protested  Sebastian. 

"  Do  not  be  angry,"  came  the  reply,  "  only  I  will  answer 
for  my  heresy  when  you  explain  concerning  Nasr."  And 
with  this  Sebastian  was  content  to  drop  the  encounter. 

Then  of  a  sudden  came  a  day  when  the  even  flow  of  life 
at  Cefalu  was  rudely  shaken.  Richard  and  Mary  had 
ridden  with  some  retinue  to  games  which  Baron  William's 
neighbor,  the  Lord  of  Pollina,  had  been  holding.  The 
jousts  had  been  hot,  though  not  so  fierce  as  to  be  bloody. 
Richard  had  refused  to  ride,  for  all  the  country-side  stood 
in  some  awe  of  him.  Musa  had  won  the  hearts  of  all  the 
ladies,  as  he  ever  did,  by  his  dashing  horsemanship  and 
grace.  Evening  was  beginning  to  fall.  They  were  still 
two  miles  from  Cefalu,  and  before  them  opened  a  long, 
shaded  avenue  of  holm-oak  and  cypress,  through  which 
shimmered  the  failing  light.  Mary  touched  whip  to  her 
fleet  palfrey.  The  good  horse  shot  forward,  and  beside 


HOW  IFTIKHAR  SAID  FAREWELL  TO  SICILY     119 

her  raced  Richard,  leaving  the  rest  behind.  They  had 
swung  into  the  avenue,  the  steeds  were  just  stretching  their 
necks  for  a  headlong  pace,  when  lo,  as  by  magic,  behind  a 
thicket  rose  three  men,  and  in  a  twinkling  three  arrows 
sped  into  Longsword's  breast !  The  clang  of  the  bow  and 
Mary's  cry  were  as  one.  But  even  as  Richard  reeled  in 
the  saddle,  Musa  and  Nasr  were  beside  him,  at  a  raging 
gallop.  The  Norman  shivered,  sat  erect.  One  arrow  was 
quivering  in  his  saddle  leather,  two  hung  by  the  barbs  from 
his  mantle. 

"  You  are  wounded ! "  was  the  cry  of  the  Greek.  But 
Richard  put  her  by  with  a  sweep  of  the  hand. 

"  For  me  as  for  you,  Musa,  this  Spanish  mail  is  a  guar- 
dian saint.  The  arrows  were  turned.  I  am  unhurt." 

"  Mother  of  God ! "  Mary  was  crying,  all  unstrung, 
"what  has  befallen  us!" 

But  Nasr  and  Herbert  had  shot  ahead.  They  could 
hear  horses  crashing  through  the  thickets ;  other  men 
plunged  in  after  them  on  foot.  Then  a  great  shout,  and 
forth  they  came,  haling  two  very  quaking  and  blackguardly- 
looking  Egyptians,  in  the  hands  of  one  a  strong  bow. 

"  By  the  glory  of  Allah !  "  Nasr  was  swearing,  "  these 
men  are  of  the  Emir  Iftikhar's  guard.  We  shall  have  a 
tale  to  tell  when  next  we  fare  to  Palermo." 

They  dragged  the  wretches  into  the  light.  Nasr's  iden- 
tification and  their  guilt  were  beyond  dispute.  Their  com- 
rade had  made  his  escape.  But  when  Musa  began  to 
question  them  as  to  who  prompted  their  deed,  they  had 
never  a  word,  only  cried  out,  "  Have  pity  on  us,  O  Sword 
of  Grenada;  like  you,  we  are  Moslems,  and  we  sought 
an  infidel's  life  !  " 

"  By  the  beard  of  the  Prophet !  "  protested  the  Spaniard, 
"good  Moslems  you  are  in  truth.  Well  do  you  remember 
Al  Koran,  which  saith,  '  He  that  slayeth  one  soul  shall  be 
as  if  the  blood  of  all  mankind  were  upon  him  ; '  "  and  he 
added  cynically,  "  Console  yourselves,  perchance  you  will 
be  martyrs,  and  enter  the  crops  of  the  green  birds  in 
Paradise." 

"  Mercy,  mercy,  gracious  Cid ! "  howled  the  Egyptians. 


120  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Away  with  them !  "  cried  Richard,  who  saw  that  Mary 
was  very  pale  and  trembled  on  her  horse.  "  At  Cefalu  we 
have  for  them  a  snug  dungeon,  thirty  feet- underground, 
with  straw  beds  floating  in  water.  There  they  can  recollect, 
if  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  put  this  archery  in  their  heads  !  " 

So  Herbert  and  Nasr  trotted  the  prisoners  away,  strapped 
to  the  saddles.  That  night,  after  Sebastian  had  said  mass 
in  memory  of  the  merciful  preservation  of  his  "dear  son," 
Baron  William  and  Herbert  taught  the  Egyptians  how 
Normans  were  accustomed  to  eke  out  meagre  memories. 
They  began  by  sprinkling  salt  water  on  the  prisoners'  feet, 
and  letting  goats  lick  it;  and  then,  as  Sebastian  aptly 
expressed  in  his  Latin,  sic  per  gradus  ad  ima  tenditur,  they 
at  last  called  for  red-hot  irons.  In  this  way,  though  the 
Egyptians  were  stupid  and  forgetful  at  first,  in  time  they 
remembered  how  Iftikhar  had  sent  them  to  Cefalu,  to  do 
what,  except  for  the  Valencia  mail,  they  nearly  accom- 
plished. They  had  acted  in  a  spirit  of  blind  obedience, 
fully  expecting  to  be  captured  and  to  suffer ;  and  when 
they  heard  Baron  William  ordering  the  gallows,  they  only 
blinked  with  stolid  Oriental  eyes,  for  they  saw  that  groan- 
ings  availed  nothing. 

Very  early  the  next  day  a  messenger  flew  post  haste  to 
Palermo,  with  a  formal  demand  from  Baron  William  that 
the  High  Mufti,  who  judged  all  the  Saracens  of  Sicily, 
should  hear  charges  against  the  Emir  Iftikhar.  But  the 
messenger  was  late.  The  third  assassin  had  secured  a 
fast  horse,  and  outstripped  him  by  half  a  day.  Iftikhar 
was  already  out  to  sea,  bound,  it  was  said,  for  Damietta. 


CHAPTER  XI 

HOW   RICHARD    FARED    TO    AUVERGNE 

Now  when  the  south  wind  blew  gently  with  the  advanc- 
ing spring,  Richard  set  forth  for  Auvergne.  With  him 
went  Sebastian,  rejoiced  to  see  "  that  very  Christian  country 
of  France,"  and  Herbert  his  arch-counsellor,  and  Nasr  with 
a  score  of  tough  Saracens,  very  fiends  as  they  looked,  Baron 
William's  old  retainers,  who  would  have  followed  the  devil 
with  a  stout  heart  so  long  as  he  led  to  hard  blows  and 
good  plunder.  Just  before  he  started,  Richard  was  admon- 
ished by  his  father  not  to  rush  into  quarrel  with  Raoul, 
the  brother  of  Louis,  whose  lands  of  Valmont  lay  close  by 
St.  Julien.  "  A  rough,  bearish  fellow,"  William  called  him, 
who  had  won  the  name  of  the  "  Bull  of  Valmont"  by  his 
headlong  courage.  He  had  broiled  with  Louis,  chased 
him  from  the  fief,  and  now  lived  alone  with  his  mother, 
the  Lady  Ide,  and  young  brother  Gilbert.  Just  now,  report 
had  it,  he  was  at  sword's  points  with  the  abbot  of  Our 
Lady  of  St.  Julien,  who  claimed  freedom  from  tolls  upon 
the  Valmont  lands,  and  William  warned  his  son  against 
being  used  by  the  monk  to  fight  his  unchurchly  quarrel. 
So  Richard  promised  discretion,  kissed  his  mother  for  the 
last  time  ;  and  away  he  went  on  a  stanch  galleon  of  Amalfi 
headed  for  Marseilles,  and  making  Palermo  on  her  voyage 
from  Alexandria. 

A  short  voyage,  too  short  almost  for  Richard  and  Mary, 
who  found  even  the  evenings  grow  enchanted,  while  they 
sat  on  the  gilded  poop  watching  the  sun  creep  down  into  the 
deep ;  or  listened  to  the  tales  of  Theroulde,  who  set  Mary 
a-laughing  when  he  told  of  King  Julius  Caesar,  and  how 


122  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

he  built  the  walls  of  Constantinople,  and  wooed  the  "  very 
discreet  Fee,"  Morgue,  who  became  his  wife.  But  the  joy 
was  rarest  to  be  alone  upon  the  poop,  with  the  soft  breeze 
crooning  in  the  rigging,  the  foam  dancing  from  the  beak 
and  trailing  behind  its  snowy  pathway  where  trod  the 
dying  light. 

"  Ah,"  said  Mary  one  evening,  as  the  first  star  twinkled 
in  the  deep  violet,  "  one  year  it  is  since  I  set  eyes  on  you, 
my  Richard ;  since  you  plucked  me  from  the  Berbers.  In 
this  year  I  have  lost  my  father,  and  gained  —  you  !  "  And 
there  were  both  sadness  and  joy  upon  her  face. 

"A  year!  "  quoth  Richard,  his  eyes  not  upon  the  stars, 
but  upon  a  coronal  of  brown  hair.  "  How  could  I  ever 
have  lived  without  you  ?  Since  you  have  entered  into  me, 
my  strength  waxes  twenty-fold.  By  St.  Michael,  I  will  seek 
a  great  adventure  to  prove  it !  " 

"  Do  you  think  to  give  me  joy  by  risking  life  at  every 
cross-road  to  prove  your  love  ?  Does  a  true  lover  think  so 
meanly  of  his  love,  that  he  is  willing  to  tear  her  heart  by 
thrusting  his  precious  self  in  peril  ?  " 

"  No,"  protested  he,  taking  her  right  hand  in  his  own, 
then  the  other;  and  holding  both  captive  in  his  right, 
while  she  laughed  and  struggled  vainly  to  get  free.  "  But 
what  do  you  love  in  me  ?  The  only  thing  I  have ;  —  an  arm 
that  is  very  heavy.  And  shall  I  not  use  that  gift  of  the 
saints  ?  Are  there  not  haughty  tyrants  with  no  fear  of 
God  in  their  hearts,  who  must  be  overthrown  by  a  Chris- 
tian cavalier  ?  Is  the  world  so  good,  so  free  from  violence, 
and  wickedness,  and  strife,  that  he  who  can  wield  a  sword  for 
Christ  should  let  it  rust  in  the  scabbard  ?  You  would  not 
have  me  always  in  your  bower,  listening  to  those  Greek 
books  which  I  called  Churchmen's  frippery,  until  you  made 
them  all  music.  Only  yesterday  I  heard  Sebastian  grum- 
ble, '  St.  Martin  forbid  that  the  princess  play  the  Philistine 
woman  to  our  Samson,  and  shear  his  locks ;  so  that  Holy 
Church  fail  of  a  noble  champion  !  " 

"  I  will  never  play  the  Philistine  woman  to  you,  my 
Richard,"  answered  Mary,  lightly.  Then  as  a  sweet  and 
sober  light  came  into  her  eyes :  "  Oh,  dear  heart,  I  know 


HOW   RICHARD   FARED   TO   AUVERGNE         123 

well  what  you  must  be  !  It  is  true  the  world  is  very  evil. 
We  are  young,  and  the  light  shines  fair ;  but  there  is  a 
day  to  dance,  and  a  day,  not  to  mourn,  but  to  put  by  idle 
things.  You  will  be  a  great  man,  Richard,"  with  a  proud, 
bright  glance  into  his  face  ;  "  men  will  dread  you  and  your 
righteous  anger  against  their  wickedness ;  God  will  give 
you  mighty  deeds  to  do,  great  battles  to  win,  great  wrongs 
to  right,  and  perhaps  "  —  here  with  another  glance  —  "  they 
will  think  you  grow  hard  and  sombre,  when  it  is  only 
because  you  dare  not  turn  back  from  your  task,  but  must 
think  of  duty,  not  of  childish  things.  But  I  will  still  be 
with  you ;  and  when  you  go  away  to  the  wars,  as  go  you 
must,  I  will  never  weep  till  your  banner  is  out  of  sight ; 
and  if  I  do  weep,  I  will  still  say,  as  you  said,  '  It  is  no  dread- 
ful thing  for  a  brave  gentleman  to  die,  if  he  dies  with  his 
face  toward  the  foe,  and  his  conscience  clear.'  " 

"  You  will  make  me  a  very  saint,"  said  Richard,  still 
holding  fast  her  hands ;  "  but  it  is  by  your  prayers  alone, 
dear  saint,  that  I  may  dare  have  hope  of  heaven." 

"  No,"  replied  the  Greek,  smiling,  "  you  are  not  a  saint. 
Oh,  you  will  do  very  wrong,  I  know !  But  God  and  Our 
Lady  understand  that  your  heart  is  true  and  pure.  It  is 
our  souls  that  go  to  heaven,  not  our  tongues  with  their 
harsh  words,  nor  our  hands  with  their  cruel  blows.  And 
when  you  are  fiercest,  and  the  tempting  fiends  tear  you, 
and  the  sky  seems  very  black,  then  I  will  kiss  you  —  so  — 
and  you  will  recollect  yourself,  and  be  my  own  true  cava- 
lier, who  wields  his  sword  because  the  love  of  Christ  is  in 
his  heart." 

"  But  you  will  not  always  be  with  me,"  protested  Rich- 
ard. "  When  I  am  alone  and  sorely  tempted  —  what  then  ?  " 

"Then  you  must  love  me  so  much  that  my  face  will  be 
ever  before  your  eyes;  and  by  this  you ' will  know  when 
you  strike  for  Christ,  and  when  for  worldly  passion  or 
glory." 

"Ah!"  cried  Richard,  "what  have  I  done  that  God 
should  send  down  one  of  His  saints  to  sit  by  me,  and  speak 
to  me,  and  dwell  forever  with  me  ? " 

"  Forever  !  "  said  Mary,  lugubriously  ;  "  we  shall  all  be 


124  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

in  heaven  in  a  hundred  years.  How  well  that  there  is 
no  marriage  nor  giving  in  marriage  there,  or  some  of  those 
lovely  saintesses  might  make  eyes  at  so  fine  a  warrior-angel 
as  you ;  then  I  would  wax  jealous,  and  St.  Peter,  if  he  is 
the  peacemaker,  might  have  his  wits  sore  puzzled."  But 
here  soberness  left  them  both,  and  they  laughed  and 
laughed  once  more  ;  till  Musa  and  Theroulde,  who  had  dis- 
creetly withdrawn  to  the  cabin,  came  forth,  and  the  jongleur, 
looking  up  at  the  now  gleaming  planets,  told  how  wise 
beldames  said,  those  lights  sang  a  wondrous  melody  all 
night  long,  and  a  new-born  child  heard  their  music. 

Richard  was  still  holding  Mary's  hands,  and  she  saucily 
told  Musa  that  she  had  begun  early  those  lessons  of  obe- 
dience which  her  lord  would  surely  teach  her. 

"  Flower  of  Greece,"  laughed  the  Spaniard,  "  in  Anda- 
lusia the  women  are  our  rulers ;  at  their  beck  palaces  rise, 
wars  are  declared,  peace  is  stricken.  The  king  of  Seville 
for  his  favorite  wife  once  flooded  his  palace  court  with  rose 
water,  to  satisfy  her  whim.  Come  with  me  to  Spain,  not 
Auvergne." 

"  No,"  answered  Mary,  tugging  free  her  hands  and 
shaking  a  dainty  sleeve  of  Cyprian  gauze,  "  we  will  never 
turn  infidel  and  peril  our  souls  —  not  even  to  please  you, 
Sir  Musa." 

She  saw  a  dark  shadow  flit  over  Musa's  face :  was  it  as 
the  ship's  lantern  swayed  in  the  slow  swell  of  the  sea  ? 
But  he  replied  quickly  :  — 

"  Alas !  I  am  not  such  a  friend  to  the  lord  of  Andalusia 
to-day  that  I  can  proffer  there  princely  hospitality." 

Then  their  talk  ran  fast  on  a  thousand  nothings  ;  but  the 
shadow  on  Musa's  face  haunted  Mary.  She  resolved  in 
her  heart,  she  would  never  again  remind  him  that  their 
faith  lay  as  a  gulf  between  them. 

The  stout  ship  reached  Marseilles,  where  she  was  to 
barter  her  Eastern  wares  for  Prankish  iron,  oil,  and  wax. 
Her  passengers  sped  joyously  to  La  Haye,  a  rich  and 
stately  castle  in  the  pleasant  South  Country,  where  Baron 
Hardouin,  Mary's  uncle,  received  his  niece  and  future 


HOW   RICHARD    FARED   TO   AUVERGNE         125 

nephew  with  courtly  hospitality,  as  became  a  great  seigneur 
of  Provence.  And  when  Richard  rode  again  northward 
with  a  lock  of  brown  hair  in  his  bosom,  he  had  a  prom- 
ise that,  when  he  returned  in  autumn,  there  should  be  a 
wedding  such  as  became  the  heiress  of  a  Greek  Caesar 
and  a  great  Baroness  of  the  Languedoc. 

Never  again  was  Longsword  to  ride  with  fairer  visions 
and  a  merrier  heart.  He  was  in  France,  the  home  of 
knightly  chivalry,  of  Christian  faith.  As  they  passed 
through  Aix  and  Avignon  and  Orange,  and  all  along  the 
stately  Rhone,  the  wealthy  lords  and  ladies  entertained 
him  in  their  castles,  Theroulde  paying  by  his  stories  for  all 
the  feastings  and  wassail.  And  Richard  carried  his  head 
high,  for  the  fame  of  his  deeds  in  Sicily  had  run  overseas ; 
and  men  honored  him,  and  the  great  countesses  gave  soft 
looks  and  words,  —  with  more  perchance,  had  he  only  suf- 
fered. "Verily,"  thought  Richard  in  his  heart,  "the 
jongleurs  did  well  to  sing  that  when  King  Alexander  the 
Great  lay  a-dying,  he  had  only  one  sorrow,  —  that  he  had  not 
conquered  France,  head  of  the  whole  world."  But  for  the 
ladies,  their  troops  of  troubadours  and  their  "courts  of 
love,"  Richard  had  only  pleasant  words,  no  more.  For 
Longsword  had  a  vision  before  his  eyes  that  two  years 
before  he  had  never  dreamed.  Fairer  than  all  knightly 
glory,  the  sweet  delirium  of  battle,  the  cry  of  a  thousand 
heralds  proclaiming  him  victor,  rose  the  dream  of  a  strong 
and  beautiful  woman  ever  beside  him  ;  her  voice  ever  in 
his  ears,  her  touch  upon  his  arm,  her  breath  upon  his 
cheek ;  and  from  year  unto  year  his  soul  drawing  to  itself 
joy  and  power  merely  by  looking  upon  her  —  this  was  the 
dream.  And  Richard  marvelled  that  once  his  life  had 
found  rest  in  hawking  and  sword-play.  So  as  he  rode 
northward,  all  the  little  birds  upon  the  arching  trees  sang 
that  one  name  "Mary";  and  the  great  Rhone,  hastening 
seaward,  murmured  it  from  each  eddy  and  foaming  boul- 
der ;  and  the  kind  west  wind  whispered  it,  as  it  blew  over 
the  pleasant  corn-lands  of  Toulouse  and  Aquitaine. 

Thus  ever  toward  the  north ;  at  last  they  touched 
the  domain  of  the  Count  of  Vaudan  close  to  Auvergne, 


126  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

and  near  St.  Flour  they  entered  Auvergne  itself.  Then 
around  them  rose  the  mountains  like  frozen  billows  of  the 
angry  North  Sea,  their  jagged  summits  crowned  with 
cinder-filled  craters ;  upon  their  bold  flanks  patches  of 
basalt,  where  clinging  pines  shook  down  their  needles.  On 
nigh  each  cliff  perched  a  castle,  black  as  the  rock  and  as 
steep ;  and  amid  the  clefts  of  the  mountains  were  little 
valleys  where  browsed  sure-footed  kine ;  where  the  people 
were  rude,  rough  men,  with  great  beards,  leather  dresses, 
surly  speech,  and  hands  that  went  often  to  their  sword- 
hilts. 

"Sure,  it  is  a  wild  land  I  have  come  to  set  right!  "  cried 
Richard,  gazing  at  the  fire-scarped  ranges  of  puys ;  and 
he  rejoiced  at  thought  of  ordering  his  grandsire's  barony 
with  a  strong  hand.  But  Sebastian  again  was  only  gloom 
and  warnings. 

"  Ah,  dear  son,  how  much  better  to  leave  your  grand- 
father's petty  seigneury  to  its  fate,  and  heed  the  word  of 
holy  Peter  the  Hermit,  who  is  preaching  the  war  against 
the  infidels." 

"  Not  while  Mary  Kurkuas  lives  will  I  quit  her  to  go  to 
Jerusalem,"  proclaimed  Richard,  boldly ,  and  Sebastian 
shook  his  head,  as  was  his  wont.  "  'The  woman  tempted 
me,  and  I  did  eat,'  "  was  his  bitter  answer ;  "  God  is  not 
mocked ;  your  pride  shall  yet  be  dashed  utterly." 


CHAPTER   XII 

HOW   RICHARD    CAME   TO   ST.    JULIEN 

Now  at  last  they  were  drawing  near  to  St.  Julien, 
whither  Richard  sent  advance  messengers.  And  as  he 
saw  how,  despite  the  rocks  and  the  ragged  landscape,  fair 
meadow  valleys  began  to  spread  out,  and  wide  fields 
bursting  with  their  summer  fatness,  he  grew  still  more 
elated  and  arrogant  in  soul.  How  many  gallant  adven- 
tures awaited  beyond  those  hills  !  How  he  would  rule 
with  a  strong  hand  his  grandsire's  seigneury !  Nay  more, 
he  would  do  better :  he  would  some  day  ride  over  this  road 
with  Mary  Kurkuas  at  his  side,  and  hear  knight  and  villain 
hail  him,  "  Richard,  by  the  Grace  of  God,  Count  and  Suze- 
rain of  all  Auvergne."  With  only  five  horsemen  had 
Robert  Guiscard  left  Normandy,  and  when  he  died,  half 
Italy  and  nigh  all  Sicily  were  at  his  feet ;  and  should  not 
Richard  of  Cefalu  do  better,  with  a  fair,  rich  barony  to 
build  upon  ? 

Presently,  after  a  long  day's  ride,  the  young  knight's 
company  came  forth  from  the  last  pass  amongst  the  hill- 
tops, and  before  them  —  St.  Julien.  Richard  could  see  the 
tall  square  towers  of  the  distant  castle  shining  yellow  gray 
in  the  dying  sun ;  he  could  see  the  long  reaches  of 
ploughed  land,  the  glebe  of  the  Abbey  of  Our  Lady  of 
St.  Julien,  to  whose  abbot  the  local  baron  paid  each  year 
six  bunches  of  wild  flowers,  token  of  nominal  fealty.  Far 
away  were  the  dun  masses  of  the  monastery's  many  roofs 
and  walls  ;  about  the  castle  nestled  the  thatches  of  a  little 
town,  a  fair  stream  ran  through  the  valley,  and  all  around 
the  beetling  mountains  kept  watch. 

127 


128  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"A  goodly  land,"  cried  Sebastian,  shading  his  eyes  with 
a  gaunt  hand ;  "  a  goodly  land  ;  ah,  dear  Christ,  grant  that 
the  hearts  of  the  men  within  it  be  as  pure  as  thine  own 
heavens  above ! " 

"  And  have  I  done  wrong,"  declared  Richard,  pointing 
from  corn-land  to  castle,  and  thence  to  river,  "  to  come  so 
far  to  possess  it  ?  Does  not  God  will  rather  that  I  should 
play  my  part  here,  than  throw  away  life  and  love  in  a  mad 
wandering  to  Jerusalem  ?  " 

But  Sebastian  shook  his  head. 

"  They  say  the  devil  can  appear  as  an  angel  of  light ; 
God  forfend  that  the  earthly  beauty  of  this  country  breed 
perdition  for  your  soul." 

So  they  went  down  the  hillside,  laughing  and  singing, 
and  pricking  on  their  flagging  steeds,  though  Richard  saw 
that  Musa  was  only  half  merry. 

"  Tell  me,  brother  mine,"  said  he,  "  why  are  you  not 
gay  ?  Do  you  envy  me  my  first  inheritance  ?  " 

The  Spaniard  threw  up  his  hands  in  inimitable  gesture. 

"  Wallali ;  is  not  your  joy  my  joy,  soul  of  my  soul!" 
cried  he,  earnestly.  "  Not  gay  ?  Allah  forbid  that  there 
be  truth  in  portents.  As  at  noon  we  rested,  and  I  slept 
under  the  trees,  I  dreamt  that  I  was  grievously  plucked 
by  the  hair." 

"  And  that  forbodes  —  ? " 

"  That  some  calamity  or  ill  news  comes  either  to  me  or 
to  some  dear  to  me.  So  our  Arabian  diviners  interpret 
dreams,  and  so  some  years  since  Al-Aazid,  my  master  at 
Cordova,  instructed  me." 

"  Christ  defend  us ! "  quoth  Richard,  crossing  himself. 
He  was  not  imagining  ill  for  himself  nor  for  Musa,  but  for 
Mary  Kurkuas. 

"  Be  not  troubled,"  continued  the  Spaniard;  "the  surest 
presages  often  fail."  Richard  rode  on  in  silence.  The 
melancholy  of  his  friend  was  contagious.  A  cloud  drifted 
over  the  sun ;  the  bright  landscape  darkened.  As  they 
passed  by  a  wayside  cross  on  the  hillside,  a  skeleton  swung 
from  an  oak  in  the  hot  wind  —  some  brigand  or  villain, 
who  had  enraged  the  seigneur.  A  wretched  beggar  met 


HOW   RICHARD   CAME   TO   ST.   JULIEN          129 

them,  just  as  they  plunged  into  the  trees  to  enter  the 
valley. 

"Alms!  alms!  kind  lord,"  he  croaked,  hirface  red  with 
bloody  patches ;  and  as  he  spoke  he  lay  on  the  ground, 
and  foamed  as  if  grievously  ill. 

"Away  with  you!"  growled  Sebastian,  angrily;  "you 
have  smeared  blood  on  your  face,  and  there  is  a  bit  of  soap 
in  your  cheeks." 

So  they  left,  and  heard  his  shrill  curse,  when  he  saw 
Richard  tossed  forth  never  a  denier. 

"  No  good  omens,"  muttered  Herbert,  in  his  beard. 

"  Ride  faster,"  commanded  Richard,  touching  spur  to 
Rollo. 

So  they  hastened,  while  above  them  the  canopy  of  leaves 
grew  denser,  and  more  clouds  piled  across  the  dimming  sun. 
Then  as  they  swung  round  a  turn,  they  came  upon  a  man 
with  a  great  load  of  fagots  on  his  back,  —  a  tall,  coarse- 
faced  fellow,  with  a  shock  head  and  unkempt  beard,  hat- 
less,  dressed  in  a  dirt-dyed  blouse  held  by  a  leathern  belt, 
woollen  trousers,  and  high,  rude  boots. 

Herbert  rode  up  to  him,  as  he  stood  staring  with  dazed, 
lack-lustre  eyes  at  the  company. 

"Ho,  sirrah ;  and  are  we  on  the  Baron  of  St.  Julien's 
land?"  No  answer;  then  again,  "Are  we  on  the  Baron 
of  St.  Julien's  land  ? "  Still  no  answer,  while  the  scoun- 
drel gazed  about  like  a  cornered  cat,  looking  for  chance  to 
escape.  Herbert  grasped  his  ear  in  no  gentle  pinch. 

"  I  work  miracles,"  bellowed  he.  "  I  make  the  dumb 
speak!"  Then  as  he  twisted  the  ear,  the  man  howled 
out:  — 

"Yes,  this  is  his  land." 

"  And  why  not  all  this  before  ?  "  roared  Herbert. 

"  I  love  my  lord,"  growled  the  fellow ;  "  how  do  I  know 
but  that  you  seek  his  ill  ?  Sorrow  enough  he  has,  with- 
out need  of  more." 

"  Ha !  "  exclaimed  Richard,  "what  is  this  ?  Speak  out, 
my  man.  I  am  his  friend  and  yours  !  " 

But  before  he  could  get  answer,  the  pound,  pound,  of  sev- 
eral horsemen  was  heard  ahead.  And  they  saw  in  the  road 


130  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

four  riders,  two  accoutred  men-at-arms,  two  others,  by  their 
dress  and  steeds  evidently  gentlemen  of  the  lesser  sort. 
One  of  these,  a  tall  young  man  of  about  Richard's  age, 
spurred  ahead ;  and  as  he  drew  near,  he  dropped  his  lance- 
head  in  salute. 

"Noble  lord,"  said  he,  "do  I  speak  with  Richard  Long- 
sword  of  Cefalu,  grandson  of  the  Baron  of  St.  Julien  ?  " 

"  I  am  he,  fair  sir,"  replied  Richard,  with  like  salute. 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  your  safety.  Your  messengers 
have  arrived.  We  expected  your  coming.  Know  that  I 
am  Bertrand,  squire  of  the  Baron,  your  grandfather ;  and 
this  is  his  good  vassal  the  castellan,  Sir  Oliver  de  Carnac ; 
in  our  Lord's  name  we  greet  you  well  and  all  your 
company." 

So  Richard  thanked  them  for  their  courtesy,  and  then 
questioned :  — 

"  And  is  my  lord  the  Baron  well  ? " 

But  at  his  words  a  great  cloud  lowered  on  the  face  of 
the  squire,  and  he  turned  to  De  Carnac ;  and  that  stern- 
faced  knight  began  to  look  very  blank,  though  saying 
nothing.  Then  Bertrand  began  hesitatingly  :  — 

"  It  grieves  me,  fair  lord ;  but  the  Baron  is  very  ill  just 
now;  the  skill  of  the  monks  of  St.  Julien  does  nothing 
for  him." 

"  Ha  !  "  exclaimed  the  Norman.  "  I  give  him  joy  ;  I 
have  here  a  famous  Spanish  knight,  who,  besides  being  a 
mighty  cavalier,  knows  all  the  wisdom  of  the  paynim 
schools,  which,  if  very  bad  for  the  soul,  is  sovereign  for 
the  body." 

"  No  skill  avails,  lord,"  said  Bertrand,  looking  down. 
"  He  is  blind." 

"Blind!"  came  from  Longsword.  "When?  how?  he 
did  not  write." 

"  No,  fair  sir ;  three  days  since  it  happed  ;  and  I  have 
a  sorry  tale  to  tell." 

"  Briefly  then."  Musa  saw  the  Norman's  face  very  calm 
and  grave,  and  he  shuddered,  knowing  a  mighty  storm  was 
gathering. 

"  Lord,"  said  Bertrand,  "  over  yonder  mountain  lies  the 


HOW   RICHARD   CAME   TO   ST.   JULIEN          131 

castle  of  Valmont :  its  seigneur,  Raoul,  has  for  years  been 
at  feud  with  your  grandfather,  my  lord.  Much  blood  has 
flowed  to  neither's  advantage.  When  Louis  went  away, 
the  two  barons  made  a  manner  of  peace ;  but  of  late  they 
quarrelled,  touching  the  rights  to  certain  hunting-land.  The 
suzerain,  Count  Robert  of  Auvergne,  is  old  ;  he  gave  judg- 
ment against  Raoul,  but  had  no  power  to  enforce.  Four 
days  since  Baron  Gaston  went  upon  the  debatable  land  to 
lay  a  hound ;  with  him  only  Caspar,  the  huntsman.  Raoul 
and  many  men  meet  them  ;  high  words,  drawn  swords  ; 
and  after  our  Baron  had  slain  three  men  with  his  own 
hands,  the  '  Bull  of  Valmont '  takes  him.  Raoul  is  in  a 
black  rage,  and  his  enemy  in  his  power." 

Richard's  face  was  black  also,  but  he  was  not  raging. 

"  Go  on,"  said  he,  very  calmly. 

"  Raoul  says  to  my  lord,  '  It  is  a  grievous  thing  to  take 
the  life  of  a  cavalier,  who  cannot  defend  himself.  I  will 
not  do  it,  yet  you  shall  never  see  that  pleasant  hunting-land 
more.'  Then  he  calls  John  of  the  Iron  Arm,  a  man-at-arms 
and  chief  devil  at  Valmont,  who  is  after  his  own  heart, 
and  bids  him  bring  the  '  hot-bowl.' " 

"  The  '  hot-bowl '  ?  " 

"  Yes,  lord  ;  a  red-hot  brazier,  which  they  passed  before 
our  Baron's  eyeballs,  until  the  sight  was  scorched  out 
forever." 

Richard  was  turning  very  pale.  "  Mother  of  God  !  " 
muttered  he,  crossing  himself  ;  but  Bertrand  went  on  :  — 

"  Then  Raoul  struck  off  Caspar's  right  hand,  and  bade 
him  lead  his  seigneur  home  with  the  other,  and  let  them 
remember  there  was  brave  hunting  on  the  Valmont  lands." 

"  And  what  has  been  done  against  Raoul  ? "  asked 
Richard. 

"  Nothing,  lord.  De  Carnac  is  our  chief ;  but  when  we 
knew  you  were  coming,  and  heard  how  you  had  laid  the 
Bull's  brother,  Louis  de  Valmont,  on  his  back,  great  knight 
that  he  was,  we  waited  ;  for,  we  said,  '  When  Sir  Richard 
comes,  we  shall  be  led  by  one  of  St.  Julien's  own  stock,  and 
we  shall  see  if  he  loves  Raoul  more  than  do  we.' " 

"You  have  done  well,  dear  friend,"  said  Richard,  still 


132  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

very  quietly.     "  Now  tell  me,  how  is  my  grandfather ;  well, 
save  for  his  eyes  ?  " 

"  Alas !  he  was  nigh  dead  when  he  came  back,  and 
to-day  the  monks  declared  he  would  slip  away;  only  desire 
for  revenge  keeps  his  soul  in  him." 

"  I  must  see  him,"  said  Longsword,  simply ;  then  to 
Musa,  "  Ha !  my  brother,  will  you  be  at  my  side  in  this 
adventure  ? " 

"  Allah  akhbar"  cried  the  Spaniard,  his  eyes  on  fire,  "  that 
Raoul  shall  feel  my  cimeter !  " 

"  Softly,  softly,  dear  son,"  quoth  Sebastian,  who  had 
heard  all,  "  Omnia  licent,  sed  omnia  non  expediunt !  " 

"  No  Latin  now,  good  father,"  was  the  Norman's  prompt 
retort,  and  he  turned  to  Bertrand :  "  To  the  castle  with 
speed ! " 

Forward  they  rode  through  the  squalid  little  village, 
where  ragged  peasants  and  slatternly  women  opened  their 
eyes  wide,  and  crossed  themselves  as  their  eyes  lit  on  the 
"  Saracen  devils  " ;  then  they  clattered  onto  the  stone  bridge, 
and  past  the  toll-keeper's  booth  at  the  drawbridge  in  the 
middle  span.  Before  them  across  a  stretch  of  cleared 
land  rose  the  castle :  not  a  curiously  planned  system  of 
outworks,  barbicans,  baileys,  and  keeps,  as  Richard  saw  in 
his  older  days,  but  a  single  massive  tower,  square,  built 
from  ponderous  blocks  of  black  basalt  that  could  mock  at 
battering-ram.  It  perched  upon  a  rocky  rising,  at  the  foot 
a  moat,  deep,  flooded  by  the  stream,  where  even  now  the 
fish  were  leaping ;  outside  the  moat,  a  high  wooden  stock- 
ade ;  within  this,  the  stables.  From  the  crest  far  above, 
the  eye  could  sweep  to  the  farthest  glens  of  the  valley. 
Ten  men  could  make  good  the  hold  against  an  army;  for 
where  was  the  hero  that  could  mount  to  the  only  entrance  — 
that  door  in  the  sheer  wall  thirty  feet  above  the  moat,  and 
only  a  wooden  drawbridge  to  reach  it,  which  pulleys  could 
lift  in  a  twinkling  ? 

Richard  looked  at  the  castle  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"Is  the  hold  of  Raoul  de  Valmont  like  to  this?"  he 
asked. 

"As   you    say,   lord;    only  the  outer  wall   is   higher," 


HOW  RICHARD  CAME   TO   ST.   JULIEN          133 

replied  Bertrand,  while  they  left  their  steeds  at  the  foot  of 
the  dizzy  bridge.  Richard  blew  through  his  teeth.  "  St. 
Michael,"  cried  he,  "there  will  be  a  tale  to  tell  ere  we  get 
inside !  " 

When  they  came  within  the  great  hall,  dark  and  sombre, 
with  slits  for  the  archers  its  only  windows,  there  were  all 
the  castle  servants  waiting  to  do  Richard  honor,  from  the 
gray  old  chamberlain  and  the  consequential  cellarer  to  the 
"  sergeants  "  that  kept  the  guard.  But  Longsword  would 
have  none  of  their  scrapes  and  bows. 

"Take  me  to  my  grandfather,"  he  commanded,  after 
turning  down  a  horn  of  mead.  So  they  led  him  up  blind 
ladders  to  a  room  above.  Here  the  windows  were  scarce 
larger;  there  was  a  great  canopied  bed,  2iprie-dieu  chair, 
two  or  three  clothes-presses;  on  the  floor  new,  sweet 
rushes.  The  day  was  sultry,  but  there  was  a  hot  fire 
roaring  in  the  cavernous  chimney-place.  The  glowing  logs 
sent  a  red  glare  over  all  the  room ;  in  every  corner  lurked 
black  shadows.  Before  the  fire  stretched  two  enormous 
wolf-hounds,  meet  hunters  for  the  fiercest  bear.  There 
was  a  huge  armchair  deeply  cushioned  before  the  fire,  the 
back  toward  the  doorway.  As  Richard  entered,  the 
hounds  sprang  up,  growling,  with  grinning  teeth,  and  a 
sharp  brattling  voice  broke  out :  — 

"  Out  of  the  room,  pestilent  monk.  Away  to  perdition 
with  your  cordials,  or  I  set  the  dogs  on  you.  Give  me  the 
head  of  Raoul  de  Valmont,  then  stab  me  if  you  will !  " 

"  Grandsire,  it  is  I !  "  cried  Richard,  and  ran  beside  the 
chair,  and  fell  on  his  knees.  A  great  hairy  hand  reached 
out  for  him,  and  he  saw  a  face,  hard  as  a  knotted  old 
oak,  beaten  by  storm,  scorched  by  lightning.  Strength 
was  there,  brute  courage,  bitter  hate,  and  an  iron  will. 
Only  the  lips  now  were  crisped,  the  white  beard  was  singed 
to  the  very  jowl,  and  across  the  eyes  was  drawn  a  white 
bandage,  stained  with  blood. 

"  Mother  of  God ! "  moaned  the  old  man,  groping  pite- 
ously.  "  Is  this  the  welcome  that  I  give  you,  sweet 
grandson  ?  " 

But  Richard,  who  thought  it  no  shame  to  weep,  held  the 


134  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

mighty  hand  to  his  lips  and  sobbed  loudly,  while  "the 
water  of  his  heart  "  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Ai,  dear  grandsire,"  said  he,  when  he  had  his  voice, 
"  it  is  well  I  have  come.  I  too  bear  no  love  for  the  race 
of  Valmont." 

The  old  Baron  felt  for  the  Norman's  arm ;  caught  it ; 
ran  his  hands  from  wrist  to  shoulder ;  gripped  tight  on  the 
iron  muscles. 

"  It  is  true,  it  is  true ! "  he  half  laughed ;  "  you  are  of 
my  stock,  and  your  father  was  a  mighty  cavalier.  You 
will  be  worthy  to  have  the  barony." 

"  Say  it  not,  sweet  sir,"  cried  Richard ;  "  please  God,  you 
will  yet  live  many  a  year !  " 

"  Ho !  "  roared  the  Baron,  in  anger,  "  would  you  have 
me  live  as  a  blind  cow !  What  is  life  without  hawks  or 
hounds  or  tourneys  or  war !  God  willing,  I  shall  die  soon. 
Hell  were  nothing  worse  than  this.  I  do  not  fear  it !  " 

"  Christ  forbid  you  should  speak  sincerely !  "  protested 
Richard,  crossing  himself. 

"  No ;  it  is  true,"  raged  the  old  man ;  "  there  is  good 
company  down  below.  Do  not  say  Bernard  the  Devil  is 
not  there,  these  seven  years,  and  he  was  my  good  friend. 
I  am  as  bad  as  he.  Fire  can't  hurt  a  man,  if  he  can  only 
see.  What  have  I  to  do  with  your  saints  and  prayers  and 
priests'  prattle !  Heaven  for  them  ;  and  for  men  who  love 
good  sword-play  and  a  merry  lass  —  " 

But  Richard  cut  him  short. 

"  Don't  blaspheme !  How  know  you  that  this  is  hot  a 
reward  for  all  your  sins  ?  " 

"  Raoul  used  by  the  saints  to  reward  me  ?     Ha,  ha  — 
and  the  Baron  this  time  bellowed  a  wild  laugh  in  earnest. 

"Grandfather,"  said  Richard,  very  gently,  "you  are  in 
no  mood  for  further  talk.  I  will  leave  you,  and  come 
again." 

"  Come,  and  say  that  Raoul  has  gone  to  the  imps ! " 
raged  the  Baron ;  then,  as  Richard's  steps  sounded  depart- 
ing, "  and  if  you  take  John  of  the  Iron  Arm,  Raoul's  chief 
under-devil,  alive,  give  him  a  bath  in  boiling  lard  to  remind 
him  of  what  awaits  him  yonder  !  " 


HOW  RICHARD   CAME  TO   ST.  JULIEN          135 

Barely  had  Richard  reached  the  great  hall  when  Ber- 
trand  was  at  him  again  :  — 

"  Their  reverences,  the  abbot  of  Our  Lady  of  St.  Julien, 
the  prior,  and  the  sub-prior,  come  to  see  your  lordship." 

So  the  three  monks  in  their  black  Benedictine  habits 
came  in  before  Richard,  who  bowed  very  low,  remembering 
the  wise  maxim :  "  Honor  all  churchmen,  but  look  well  to 
your  money."  The  abbot  was  short  and  fat,  the  prior 
short  but  less  fat,  the  sub-prior  leaner  still.  Otherwise 
they  seemed  children  of  one  mother,  with  their  pale,  flabby 
faces,  their  long  gray  beards,  and  black  cowls  and  cassocks. 

" Bcnedicte,  fair  son,"  began  the  abbot;  "we  trust  the 
true  love  of  God  and  Holy  Church  is  in  your  heart." 

"  Of  God  and  Holy  Church,"  repeated  the  prior. 

"  Of  God  and  Holy  Church,"  chanted  the  sub-prior. 

"  I  am  a  great  sinner,  holy  father,"  quoth  Richard, 
dutifully,  "  yet  I  hope  for  forgiveness.  What  may  I  do 
for  you  ? " 

Then  the  abbot  ran  off  into  a  long,  winding  discourse 
as  to  how  the  barons  of  St.  Julien  had  ever  been  the  pro- 
tectors and  "advocates"  of  the  abbey,  and  how  of  late 
"that  man  of  Belial,  Raoul  de  Valmont,"  had  oppressed 
the  monks  in  many  ways.  "  And  even  now  God  has  mys- 
teriously deigned,"  continued  the  prelate,  "  that  he  should 
commit  a  sin,  the  like  whereof  have  been  few  since  the 
days  of  Judas  called  Iscariot." 

"  And  what  may  this  be  ?  "  asked  Richard,  soberly. 

"  When  our  refecfarius"  solemnly  went  on  the  abbot, 
"  passed  over  the  Valmont  lands,  driving  three  black  pigs, 
and  with  twelve  fair  round  Auvergne  cheeses  amongst 
other  gifts  of  the  pious  in  his  cart,  this  man  of  blood  cruelly 
possessed  himself  of  the  pigs  and  cheeses,  saying,  'The 
holy  brethren  will  find  prayers  rise  strongest  when  they 
have  pulse  in  their  bellies '  —  blasphemous  sinner!  " 

"  Accursed  robber  !  "  cried  the  prior. 

"  Friend  of  the  fiends  !  "  echoed  the  sub-prior. 

"And  therefore,"  wound  up  the  abbot,  "we  do  warn 
you,  on  the  peril  of  your  soul,  to  cut  off  this  child  of  perdi- 
tion root  and  branch  :  to  call  forth  to  arms  the  ban  and  the 


136  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

arriere-ban;  to  make  his  castle  a  dunghill  and  his  name 
a  byword  and  a  hissing !  " 

Richard  was  smiling.  When  the  abbot  finished,  he  gave 
the  holy  fathers  a  merry  laugh  that  made  them  half  feel 
their  weighty  mission  a  failure.  But  Musa,  as  he  looked 
upon  his  friend,  trembled,  for  he  did  not  like  that  kind  of 
smile  or  laugh.  Richard  flashed  forth  Trenchefer,  and  laid 
his  hand  on  the  knob  that  contained  such  holy  relics. 

"  See  you,  holy  fathers,  gentlemen  and  vassals  all.  I, 
Richard  Longsword,  setting  my  hand  on  the  holy  relics  of 
the  blessed  Matthias  and  the  blessed  Gereon,  do  swear 
before  God  Most  High,  that  I  will  have  the  life  of  Raoul 
de  Valmont,  and  of  every  man  or  lad  of  his  sinful  race ;  and 
God  and  these  holy  saints  do  so  to  me,  if  I  show  mercy ! " 

And  all  the  men-at-arms,  and  Bertrand  and  De  Carnac, 
saw  that  they  had  to  do  with  a  born  leader  of  warriors,  and 
cried  out  "  Amen  !  "  with  a  mighty  shout,  so  that  the  solid 
rafters  quaked  and  reechoed.  But  Sebastian  as  well 
as  Musa  shuddered  when  he  beheld  Longsword  ;  for  the 
Norman's  words  rang  hard  and  sharp  as  whetted  steel,  and 
the  good  churchman's  heart  was  heavy  with  new  foreboding. 

"This  is  a  cruel  vow,  my  son,"  he  broke  in.  "  Raoul  de 
Valmont  must  suffer  for  his  sin  ;  but  Louis,  —  he  whom  you 
spared  when  at  your  feet,  —  will  you  seek  his  life  also,  and 
that  of  the  lad  Gilbert,  the  younger  brother  ?  " 

But  Richard  flung  out  hotly  :  — 

"  Silence,  Sebastian ;  cursed  am  I  for  sparing  Louis  de 
Valmont.  Cursed  for  sparing  an  accursed  race!  I  will 
have  the  lives  of  all  —  all ;  and  will  right  my  grandsire  and 
myself  also.  So  help  me  God  !  " 

Sebastian  had  one  last  appeal. 

"  For  the  sake  of  Mary  Kurkuas,  do  not  rush  into  this 
blood-feud.  God  will  not  bless  you  if  you  go  beyond 
Raoul!" 

Longsword  threw  back  his  head. 

"  I  were  unworthy  of  Mary  Kurkuas  if  I  yielded  a  hair ! 
No  power  shall  shake  me !  Let  Christ  pity  them ;  I  will 
not ! " 

Sebastian  turned  away. 


HOW   RICHARD  CAME  TO  ST.  JULIEN          137 

"  Dear  Lord,"  he  prayed,  "  Thou  seest  how  my  sweet  son 
is  torn  by  the  fiends  who  seek  his  soul ;  first  he  forgets 
Jerusalem,  now  will  dip  his  hands  wantonly  in  Christian 
blood.  Spare  him  ;  pity  him  ;  restore  him  to  himself." 

That  night  Richard  sat  at  chess  with  Musa ;  played  skil- 
fully, laughed  loud.  His  talk  was  merry,  but  his  face  was 
very  hard. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

HOW   RICHARD    SINNED   AGAINST   HEAVEN 

NIGHT  was  falling.  There  was  a  gray  mist  creeping 
over  the  mountain ;  the  ash  trees  and  beeches  loomed  to 
spectral  size ;  the  sky  was  thick  with  dun  cloud-banks. 
But  De  Carnac,  as  he  looked  upward,  muttered  to  Long- 
sword  in  a  bated  whisper,  "  The  clouds  are  less  heavy ;  wait 
two  hours  —  they  will  break  and  give  us  the  moon." 

"  Hist,  men  !  "  Richard  cautioned  the  band  about  him ; 
"  not  yet ;  we  must  wait  for  darkness." 

Long  had  they  already  waited,  —  those  score  of  Saracens 
and  fifty  or  more  St.  Julien  men,  lying  in  ambush  behind 
the  trees,  north  of  the  crag  whereon  perched  the  Valmont 
castle,  the  only  side  where  an  easy  road  led  up  to  the  outer 
rampart,  within  which  still  lowered  the  great  keep.  They 
had  seen  men  go  in  and  out,  but  none  molested  them  in 
the  safe  shadow  of  the  trees.  Their  hearts  had  leaped  at 
the  chirp  of  each  cricket,  the  call  of  each  wood-bird.  The 
sounds  died  away  ;  naught  followed  ;  each  man  listened  to 
the  beating  in  his  own  breast. 

It  grew  darker.  Now  the  last  light  shimmered  between 
the  leaf-laden  branches ;  a  murky  haze  overspread  tree  and 
shrub  and  moss-covered  ground  until  all  objects  were  lost 
in  the  black  night.  The  castle  was  a  good  three  hundred 
paces  away,  but  it  was  so  still  that  they  heard  the  rattle 
of  the  porter's  keys  when  he  made  fast  the  great  outer 
gate.  The  chains  of  the  drawbridge  rattled ;  they  could 
see  a  lantern  flash  on  a  steel  cap  as  its  owner  made  the 
parapet  rounds  ;  a  few  glints  of  light  from  the  narrow 
windows  in  the  keep  faded  one  by  one ;  then  —  silence. 

138 


139 

Richard  felt  for  his  sheath  and  loosened  Trenchefer; 
then  whispered  to  a  shock-pated  "villain,"  whose  wrists 
were  bound,  and  the  cord  in  Herbert's  keeping:  — 

"  Now,  Giles  of  the  Mill,  serve  us  true  in  this ;  for  as  I 
hope  in  heaven,  your  hands  shall  be  stricken  off,  and  the 
stumps  plunged  in  hot  sulphur,  if  you  play  false !  " 

"  Never  fear,  lord,"  answered  the  fellow.  "  Raoul  hung 
my  eldest  son  for  fishing  in  his  stream  after  mid-Lent ; 
never  fear  his  brother  will  fail  to  let  down  the  ladder." 

Richard  rose  to  his  feet  very  slowly.  It  was  so  dark 
under  the  trees  that  the  keenest  eye  saw  only  blackness. 
On  the  western  hill-crest,  where  the  clouds  gave  way, 
the  last  bars  of  pale  light  still  hung,  but  dimming  each 
moment. 

"  Nox  ruit  interea,  et  monies  umbmntur"  repeated  Se- 
bastian, softly,  at  Longs  word's  elbow. 

"  Ai,  father,"  muttered  the  Norman,  turning,  "why  did 
you  not  remain  in  the  glen  by  the  horses  ?  We  will  call 
you,  if  any  need  shriving." 

"  And  shall  not  the  shepherd  go  with  the  sheep  ?  "  said 
Sebastian,  solemnly.  "  Ah  !  dear  son,  if  God  bless  you 
this  night,  slay  the  guilty,  but  spare  the  innocent!" 

"  Time  enough,"  protested -Richard,  "to  consider,  when 
we  see  the  inside  of  that  keep.  By  St.  Michael,  it  will 
be  no  jaunty  hawking !  " 

Sebastian  laid  his  great,  iron-capped  mace  upon  his 
shoulder.  "This  weapon  I  bear,"  said  he,  "that  I  may 
not  live  by  the  sword,  and  so  by  the  sword  perish." 

"  Now,  my  men !  "  commanded  Richard,  his  voice  still 
very  low ;  and  silently  the  long  line  of  dark  figures  rose 
from  the  fern  brake.  As  they  rose,  a  distant  bell  pealed 
out  many  miles  away,  the  notes  stealing  in  among  the 
trees  like  echoes  from  an  untrodden  world. 

"  They  toll  some  one  who  has  died  in  Bredon,"  whis- 
pered Bertrand,  the  squire.  "  Let  us  pray,"  said  Rich- 
ard. And  all  the  Christians  knelt.  The  Saracens  stood 
dumbly,  but  perhaps  said  their  word  to  "  Allah,"  —  for 
who  among  them  was  fated  to  see  another  morning  ? 

So  Richard  prayed  —  a  wild,  unholy  prayer,  as  became 


i4o  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

his  unholy  frame  of  mind ;  and  he  ended,  "  Thus  I  confide 
myself  to  the  stout  heart  Thou  hast  given  me,  and  to  my 
good  sword,  and  my  good  right  arm ;  but  last  of  all  to 
Thee !  "  And  one  may  hope  the  Most  High  rejoiced  that 
He  was  not  utterly  forgotten. 

"  Come  !  "  commanded  Longsword,  rising.  "  Keep  your 
shields  from  banging,  all  the  crossbows  ready,  and  the 
swords  loose.  De  Carnac,  you  have  torches ;  we  shall 
need  them;  and  you,  Herbert  —  the  great  axe." 

Softly  as  birds  upon  the  wing,  those  seventy  mad  spirits 
stole  across  the  band  of  open  ground  betwixt  forest  and 
castle.  Then  they  halted  before  the  looming  outworks. 
They  heard  the  sentinel  above  tramp  along  the  platform. 
A  stray  gleam  of  light  touched  his  lance-head.  He  might 
have  tossed  a  pebble  down  upon  Longsword's  helm.  Her- 
bert laid  down  his  great  axe,  set  his  crossbow,  laid  a  quar- 
rel and  levelled  into  the  dark. 

"  Not  as  you  love  me ! "  growled  Richard,  clapping  a 
hand  on  the  reckless  veteran ;  "  will  you  blast  all  now  ? " 

Tramp,  tramp ;  the  sentry  was  gone  round  behind  the 
other  side  of  the  keep.  Richard  crept  up  to  the  wall,  and 
at  his  side  Musa.  It  was  so  dark  here,  they  only  knew 
the  barrier  by  their  hands. 

"  Now,  Giles,  your  signal !  "  Longsword  passed  the  word. 
And  then  sounded  a  low  bird-call,  a  second,  a  third ;  then 
silence  again.  More  steps  on  the  parapet  above;  and  a 
voice  very  far  away,  and  mysterious  in  the  dark. 

"  Below  there  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Richard. 

"  Here ;  the  ladder ;  I  have  fastened  it."  And  some- 
thing whirred  down  into  the  gloom,  and  struck  the  ground 
lightly.  It  was  the  end  of  a  rope  ladder.  Richard  groped 
for  it,  caught,  and  gave  command. 

"  Stand  by,  men  ;  I  will  go  first ;  who  second  ?  " 

"  Who  but  I,  brother  ? "  protested  Musa,  in  his  ear. 

"Good;  let  us  gain  the  parapet,  if  we  may,  in  silence; 
then  storm  the  drawbridge  and  the  keep-gate  before  the 
alarm.  And  now  "  —  and  he  gripped  Trenchefer  in  his 
teeth  and  began  to  climb. 


HOW  RICHARD   SINNED   AGAINST  HEAVEN      141 

Two  rounds  he  had  mounted,  when  there  was  a  second 
step  above  ;  then  a  shout,  cry,  scuffle  :  — 

"  Devil !  Traitor  !  Help  !  "  and  in  an  eye-twinkle  there 
was  a  torch  flaming  on  the  parapet.  Richard  paused  a 
moment.  Right  at  the  crown  of  the  battlement  stood  a 
figure  in  armor,  and  behind  the  bulwark  was  the  noise  of 
struggle.  Louder  the  shout :  — 

"  Treachery  !  attack  !  to  arms !  " 

Twenty  voices  had  it  now.  A  mighty  horn  was  blaring  ; 
a  great  bell  was  tossing  up  its  brazen  throat  in  ringing 
clangor. 

"  Down,  lord,  down !  "  it  was  Herbert  who  called. 

"  Follow  me,  all  who  love  God  !  "  flung  back  Richard ; 
and  he  sped  up  the  ladder,  and  Musa  after  him.  Twenty 
rounds  there  were  to  clear ;  and  at  the  top,  one  who  was 
swinging  his  sword  to  cut  the  cords.  But  in  the  torchlight 
Herbert  again  levelled,  and  whing!  —  his  quarrel  had  sped 
clean  through  the  man-at-arms.  A  second  was  there,  a 
third,  but  a  flight  of  Saracen  arrows  smote  them.  Richard 
never  knew  how  he  climbed  those  rounds.  He  was  grasp- 
ing the  battlement  —  a  long  leap  cleared  it.  He  had  won 
the  platform;  beside  him  was  Musa;  and  beside  Musa 
stood  Herbert.  The  parapet  was  theirs  —  and  what  a 
sight ! 

Upon  the  summit  of  the  great  keep  a  huge  bonfire  had 
sprung  up,  and  the  tall  flames  leaped  toward  the  inky  heav- 
ens. Down  the  long  bridge  from  the  keep-door  were  run- 
ning men  in  armor,  —  ten,  twenty,  twoscore,  —  and  their 
swords  were  flashing.  And  two  mighty  shouts  came  swell- 
ing from  within  and  without :  — 

"  God  and  De  Valmont !  " 

"  Our  Lady  of  St.  Julien  !  " 

Richard  saw  a  man  in  a  silvered  casque  running  down 
the  drawbridge  —  a  dwarfish  man  with  the  shoulders  of  a 
bull;  over  his  head  danced  the  spiked  ball  of  an  armed  whip. 

"  Ah  !  St.  Julien  dogs  !  "  was  his  shout.  "To  the  fiends 
with  them  all !  " 

"  Up,  men  !  "  roared  Richard,  his  voice  swelling  above 
battle-shout,  bell,  and  fire.  But  a  great  curse  came  from 


14*  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Herbert.  "  God  spare  our  souls  !  One  rope  of  the  ladder 
is  snapped ! " 

"  Make  it  fast,"  flew  back  the  answer.  "  Musa  and  I  will 
cover  you.  Ha,  my  brother  ?  " 

And  while  Herbert  tugged  at  the  cords,  the  Spaniard's 
cimeter  swung  side  by  side  with  Trenchefer.  A  great 
rush :  the  Valmont  men,  tall  mountain  giants,  were  at  the 
two  and  about  them  in  a  twinkling.  One  sweep  should 
have  flung  the  twain  to  the  court  below  ;  fools  !  —  they 
knew  not  that  all  the  South  Country  had  no  better  swords- 
men. Richard  struck  right,  Musa  left ;  and  their  blades 
grew  red.  The  attackers  recoiled  as  from  live  fire.  A 
second  rush  —  a  second  repulse;  once  more  —  the  parapet 
was  narrow;  the  Valmont  men  reeled  back,  and  some  cried 
out  in  terror. 

"Out  of  the  way,  dogs!"  Raoul  was  bawling.  "I  will 
beat  them  down !  " 

But  as  he  rushed,  Herbert  rose  from  his  task.  The 
great  axe  was  swinging  over  his  head ;  and  as  it  poised, 
first  De  Carnac,  then  Nasr,  then  the  rest  by  tens  cleared 
the  wall. 

"  God  is  with  us  !  "  burst  from  Richard,  and  he  leaped 
from  the  parapet  into  the  court  below.  Right  amongst  the 
swarming  Valmonters  he  plunged,  and  Trenchefer  cleared 
the  path.  At  his  right  pressed  Musa,  at  his  left  Herbert, 
and  with  such  guardian  saints  all  hell  might  rage  in  vain 
against  him. 

Man  to  man  they  fought  and  right  valiantly;  but  our 
Lady  of  St.  Julien  smiled  on  her  votaries  that  sinful  night. 
They  flung  wide  the  door  to  the  court ;  the  Saracens 
swarmed  in,  biting  like  cats  with  their  crooked  cimeters. 

"  Devils  !  Paynim  devils  !  "  howled  the  Valmonters,  as 
they  still  more  gave  way.  "  Christ  save  !  We  are  lost !  " 

"  Back  to  the  keep !  "  thundered  Raoul,  who  had  laid 
more  than  one  foeman  low.  "  Back,  and  I  will  guard  the 
bridge  !  " 

The  Valmonters  surged  back.  They  swarmed  upon  the 
drawbridge.  The  wood  creaked  with  their  rush,  the  stout 
chains  tightened.  Raoul,  whose  flail  had  made  even 


HOW  RICHARD  SINNED  AGAINST  HEAVEN      143 

De  Carnac  give  way,  turned  to  follow,  but  Richard  was 
on  him. 

"  Now,  torturer  of  old  men ! "  the  Norman  hissed  it 
through  his  teeth  while  he  felt  Trenchefer  leaping  on  high, 
as  though  it  were  a  breathing  thing. 

"  Now,  St.  Julien  hound  ! "  and  Raoul  ran  down  the 
bridge  to  meet  him.  They  were  above  the  moat  —  a  mis- 
step, death.  Richard  knew  it  all,  yet  in  strange  way  knew 
nothing.  Fear  —  what  was  it?  He  saw  Raoul's  great 
spike  dash  down  upon  him ;  his  head  rang,  strange  lights 
glared  in  his  eyes ;  but  all  his  strength  sped  into  the  hilt  of 
Trenchefer.  The  good  sword  caught  the  tough  oak  of  the 
flail,  cleft  it  as  a  reed,  and  Raoul  de  Valmont  gave  one 
great  cry,  and  showed  a  face  all  gnarled  with  deathly  hate 
as  he  reeled  into  the  darkling  moat. 

"God  is  with  us  !  "  again  Richard  cried,  and  he  leaped 
upon  the  drawbridge.  The  great  door  slammed  fast  in  his 
face ;  he  could  hear  the  bolts  rattle ;  feverish  hands  strained 
on  the  levers  to  the  bridge-ropes.  But  just  as  the  plank- 
ing sprang  up,  the  axe  of  Herbert  drove  through  the  ropes 
like  pack  thread,  and  Richard  rushed  onward  to  the  door. 

"  Quarter,  kind  lord,  quarter  !  "  voices  were  crying  from 
within.  "  Mercy  !  our  lives  !  as  you  love  Christ ! " 

"  Down  with  the  door  !  "  raged  Longsword,  whose  head 
seemed  one  ball  of  fire. 

Herbert  poised  the  great  axe,  and  the  solid  wood  sprang 
in  with  the  blow,  but  the  bolts  were  strong. 

"  Give  it  me  !  "  and  Richard  snatched  the  axe  like  a 
toy.  Three  times  the  door  gave  back  under  the  shattering 
shock ;  and  with  the  fourth  it  reeled  inward.  From  the 
battlement  above,  beams  and  stones  snowed  down  upon 
him.  What  recked  Longsword  ?  He  knew  they  would  not 
hurt,  and  cared  not  if  they  should.  Where  in  his  mind 
was  Mary  Kurkuas  when  he  felt  the  hot  blood  streaming 
on  his  torn  forehead,  and  the  fury  of  demons  in  his  heart ! 

"  God  is  with  us !  "  a  third  time  he  called  it.  Before, 
opened  the  dark,  narrow,  vaulted  way  to  the  great  hall. 
There  were  flashing  eyes  and  tossing  blades  in  the  pas- 
sage. What  were  these  at  such  an  hour !  The  Valmont- 


i44  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

ers  had  lived  as  devils,  as  devils  they  fought ;  but  what 
could  they  do,  save  die  ?  Three  minutes  of  hard  cutting 
hand  to  hand,  and  the  way  was  cleared.  Longsword  and 
his  men  —  that  were  left  —  stood  in  the  great  hall.  The 
cups  still  lay  on  the  long  tables,  scraps  of  food  on  the 
trenchers ;  for  the  evening's  carousal  had  not  been  cleared 
away.  For  a  moment  there  was  darkness,  then  a  cresset  on 
the  wall  flashed  up,  another  and  another,  and  all  was  light. 

"  Fire  !  Death  !  Sack !  "  the  St.  Julien  men  were  shout- 
ing, and  who  should  say  them  nay  ? 

There  were  women  and  little  children  cowering  on  the 
settles,  young  girls  ran  screaming  up  the  swaying  ladders 
to  the  lofts  above,  and  after  them  the  raging  victors. 
Richard's  voice  was  a  trumpet  calling  above  the  stormy 
chaos. 

"  Up  to  the  parapet,  Nasr !  Let  not  a  man  escape ! 
Search  the  dungeons,  Herbert,  lest  any  hide !  " 

"  Kill !  kill !  "  threescore  throats  were  echoing. 

But  Richard  had  caught  an  old  woman  by  the  arm,  and 
dragged  her  from  her  knees. 

"They  say  Raoul  had  a  young  brother.  Where  is  he? 
Speak,  if  you  wish  to  live."  His  sword  was  swinging,  very 
red. 

"  Pity,  lord,"  moaned  the  shivering  creature.  "  Spare 
Gilbert.  He  is  harmless  as  a  dove  !  " 

"  Where  is  the  boy,  woman  ?  "  belched  the  Norman,  and 
struck  at  her  with  his  knotted  fists. 

"  Oh,  mercy !  "  screamed  she ;  "  his  mother,  Lady  Ide, 
took  him  to  the  chapel." 

"After  me,  men!  "  blazed  Richard;  and  he  ran  towards 
a  rude  stairway  leading  to  a  chamber  below. 

Musa  caught  his  arm.  "My  brother!"  he  cried  in  his 
ear,  "  you  are  beside  yourself !  This  is  no  work  for  a 
cavalier.  Your  grandfather  is  avenged.  Call  off  the 
men ! " 

"  By  the  Splendor  of  God  !  "  flashed  forth  Longsword, 
"not  even  you  shall  stop  me  now!"  He  thrust  back 
Musa  with  one  sweep  of  his  arm,  and  flew  down  the  stair- 
way, twenty  blades  at  his  heels. 


HOW   RICHARD   SINNED   AGAINST   HEAVEN       145 

Above,  raged  the  roar  of  conflict :  the  moans,  cries, 
agony,  battle-shouts,  all  blending  in  one  hideous,  echoing 
storm.  For  a  moment  after  the  red  glare  of  the  hall, 
Richard  blinked  in  the  dark ;  then  in  the  lower  chamber 
he  saw  an  altar,  and  four  tall  candles  burning  upon  it; 
and  around  the  altar  clung  white-clad  figures,  moaning 
and  praying  in  one  breath. 

Straight  across  the  little  chapel  sped  Richard  ;  and  as  he 
did  so  he  saw  amongst  the  women  two  men,  one  tall  arid 
in  armor,  with  a  sword  at  his  side ;  the  other  a  youth, 
with  a  fair  girl's  face  and  curling  golden  hair.  As  he 
strode,  one  of  the  women  rose  and  stood  before  him ;  very 
queenly  she  was  in  her  flowing  gray  hair,  and  her  brave 
sweet  face ;  for  she  was  Ide  of  the  Swan's  Neck,  once 
the  fairest  lady  in  all  Auvergne. 

"  As  you  hope  in  God—  "  began  she.  But  as  she  spoke 
the  man  in  armor  sprang  from  the  altar,  sword  in  hand. 

"  Ha  !  John  of  the  Iron  Arm  !  "  laughed  De  Carnac  at 
Richard's  side. 

"  By  the  Cross!  "  cried  the  Valmonter,  "you  shall  not 
take  me  here  like  a  cornered  rat ! " 

And  before  he  could  raise  to  parry,  Richard  saw  the 
other's  blade  swing  straight  upon  him.  One  flash  —  one 
thought  of  Mary  Kurkuas  —  crash!  The  great  mace  of 
Sebastian  had  dashed  the  sword  aside,  and  De  Carnac 
smote  the  man-at-arms  so  that  he  toppled  with  a  dull 
cry.  Richard  saw  John  of  the  Iron  Arm  at  his  feet. 

"Seize!  Bind!"  he  shouted;  "let  him  be  as  Baron 
Gaston  said."  And  he  strode  straight  on  toward  the  altar. 
Lady  Ide  caught  at  his  hands. 

"  As  you  hope  in  God,"  she  pleaded,  "  do  not  harm  my 
son !  Revere  the  altar !  " 

And  Richard,  with  all  the  fiends  in  his  heart,  smote  her 
so  that  she  fell  without  a  moan.  He  saw  the  boy  clinging 
to  a  box  on  the  altar  —  sacred  relics  doubtless.  In  one 
hand  the  lad  held  up  a  brazen  crucifix,  and  stretched  it 
forth  —  defence  against  the  slayer. 

"  Pity,  pity,  for  the  love  of  Christ ! "  he  was  pleading. 
He  was  only  a  young  lad. 


146  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Sebastian  tore  at  Richard's  arm. 

"  As  you  love  Our  Lord  !  "  cried  the  churchman,  "  spare 
him  !  "  Richard  glared  round  the  room. 

"  Some  of  you  strike  down  this  boy  !  "  was  his  command 
to  all  about.  De  Carnac,  mad  sinner,  started  •  forward, 
gave  a  glance  at  the  relic  box  and  crucifix,  recoiled,  cross- 
ing himself.  "  Deliver  us  from  evil !  "  he  was  muttering. 

"  You,  Abul  Kadir,"  cried  Richard  to  a  grinning  Saracen. 
"  Pluck  the  boy  away  !  Hew  him  down  !  " 

But  the  Moslem,  though  his  fingers  twitched  round  his  hilt, 
did  not  stir.  "  Away,  away  !  "  pleaded  Sebastian,  dragging 
at  the  Norman's  arm.  "  Our  Lady  spare  this  wickedness ! " 

"Pity,  sweet  lord!"  moaned  the  lad,  his  fair  head 
bowed  beneath  the  crucifix.  Richard  shook  himself  from 
Sebastian's  hand.  Trenchefer  had  sprung  on  high  ;  at  his 
shout  the  vaulting  rang. 

"  I  have  sworn  it!  Christ  died  not  for  the  spawn  of  Val- 
mont !  "  The  great  sword  dashed  down  the  crucifix,  shat- 
tered the  sacred  box ;  the  lad  lay  with  his  bright  locks  in 
a  crimson  pool. 

Then  silence  more  horrible  than  any  noise.  In  the 
rooms  above  they  were  still  chasing,  plundering,  slaughter- 
ing ;  it  sounded  very  far  away.  All  the  tapers  save  one 
had  been  dashed  out  by  the  stroke  ;  in  the  pale  flicker 
Richard  could  see  strong  men  with  their  heads  bowed,  and 
their  lips  moving  in  prayer.  Musa  leaned  against  a  stone 
pillar,  his  cimeter  dropped,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands. 
Only  Sebastian  was  raising  his  hand  in  adjuration. 

"  Come  out  of  him,  thou  unclean  demon,"  he  was  saying 
slowly  and  solemnly. 

Richard  looked  left,  looked  right.  Why  did  men  stare 
at  him,  and  shrink  away  from  his  glance  ?  Why  did  his 
head  throb  as  if  the  veins  were  bursting  ?  He  held  up 
Trenchefer  —  how  red  the  blade  was  !  What  had  he  been 
doing  ?  Lady  Ide  on  the  hard  flags  was  beginning  to 
quiver  and  moan  —  how  came  she  there?  The  other 
women  had  fled  the  chapel.  The  gray  shadowy  walls 
seemed  turning  round  and  round ;  Richard  caught  the 
altar-rail  to  stand  steady. 


THK    LAI>    LAV    WITH    HIS    BRIGHT   LOCKS    IN    A    CRIMSON    POOL" 


HOW  RICHARD  SINNED  AGAINST   HEAVEN      147 

Now  a  mightier  shout  in  the  halls  above. 

"  Out !  Out !  The  castle  burns  !  "  And  with  the  shout 
a  rising  roar  and  crackle,  and  the  sniff  of  creeping  smoke. 

Still  Richard  stood  ;  almost  he  felt  as  a  man  waking  from 
a  dream.  Would  it  not  all  flee  away  and  leave  him  at 
Cefalu  in  his  mother's  bower  ?  or  at  Palermo  in  the  genii 
palace  with  Mary  Kurkuas  beside  the  plashing  fountain  ? 

Musa  had  stepped  to  him  and  touched  his  arm  gently. 
"  Dear  brother,  the  castle  burns  quickly.  We  must  haste, 
if  all  would  get  out !  " 

Richard  shook  himself ;  his  head  steadied. 

"  Come,  my  men  !  "  He  led  them  up  from  the  chapel. 
Already  the  flames  were  mastering  the  upper  lofts.  The 
parapet  was  a  pyramid  of  glowing  fire.  The  victors  rushed 
down  the  drawbridge  with  their  spoil ;  a  great  copper 
dresser,  plate,  gold  cups,  tapestry — the  plunder  of  Raoul 
de  Valmont  for  many  a  long  year.  Only  Musa  stayed 
long  enough  in  the  chapel  to  bear  the  Lady  Ide  outside 
the  bailey,  where  some  of  the  castle  women  were  not  too 
terrified  to  care  for  her,  and  take  her  to  the  cottage  of  a 
peasant  not  far  away. 

Richard  stood  outside  the  gate.  The  fire  was  climbing 
downward  and  mounting  upward.  Now  from  every  loop- 
hole spouted  a  blazing  jet.  The  sky  had  cleared,  but  the 
eddying  smoke  veiled  stars  and  moon.  The  great  keep 
was  a  flaming  beacon  against  the  dark ;  ten  leagues  away 
lord  and  vassal  would  see  it,  and  say  that  Raoul  the  Bull 
of  Valmont  had  met  his  deserts  at  last.  The  St.  Julien  men 
crowded  around  their  chief,  gave  him  cheer  on  cheer,  and 
cried  out  that  with  him  to  lead  no  emperor  might  withstand 
them.  Richard  stretched  up  his  hands  toward  the  glow- 
ing fire-mount. 

"  Let  God  Himself  undo  my  deed  this  night !  "  he  cried. 
Then  they  walked  to  the  glen,  took  horse  and  were  away, 
and  saw  St.  Julien  before  dawn.  All  the  ride  Richard  was 
laughing  and  boasting,  and  saying  that  he  wished  a  Raoul 
every  month  that  he  might  have  such  rare  sport;  but 
Sebastian  and  Musa  said  little,  and  their  thoughts  were  none 
the  most  gay. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

HOW  RICHARD'S  SIN  WAS  REWARDED 

THERE  was  mirth  and  dancing  in  the  St.  Julien  castle 
when  Longsword  and  his  band  returned.  Seventy  and 
more  had  they  gone  away,  scarce  fifty  came  back,  some  of 
the  women  howled  long  for  the  husband  or  brother  whom 
they  brought  home  on  the  shields;  but  save  for  these, 
who  was  there  but  had  a  laugh  and  a  cheer  for  Richard, 
who  had  borne  himself  a  very  paladin  in  the  fight  ?  When 
the  knight  dismounted  at  the  castle  gate,  forth  came  the 
gray-haired  steward  with  the  great  horn  goblet  of  the 
urus-ox,  —  a  mighty  cup  centuries  old,  ornamented  with 
strangely  wrought  silver  bands,  and  brimming  with  home- 
brewed mead. 

"Drink,  fair  lord,"  he  commanded,  "for  you  have 
proved  a  right  noble  seigneur  of  St.  Julien.  None  but  a 
cavalier  of  wondrous  valor  is  suffered  to  drink  from  this." 

So  Richard  drained  the  great  horn.  "  To  the  perdition 
of  every  Valmonter,  and  to  the  bright  eyes  of  Mary 
Kurkuas!" 

Then  he  went  to  the  chamber  of  his  grandfather,  who 
had  sat  all  that  night,  gnawing  his  nails,  crying  to  the 
varlets  to  run  to  the  parapet  to  see  if  the  sky  was  aglow 
toward  Valmont.  As  Richard  came  in  the  old  man  stag- 
gered up  to  him,  caught  him  by  the  arm,  and  sniffled  pite- 
ously  when  Richard  told  how  they  won  the  outwork  and 
the  bridge  and  the  keep. 

"  By  the  Cross  !  "  swore  the  Baron,  half  laughing,  half 
moaning,  "  I  would  have  given  half  my  life  to  be  there,— 

148 


HOW    RICHARD'S   SIN   WAS   REWARDED         149 

there  and  strike  one  good  blow,  and  feel  the  steel  eat 
through  Raoul  cle  Valmont." 

"  Raoul  de  Valmont  will  never  feel  another  sword,"  said 
Richard,  softly  ;  "  he  is  gone  to  his  account." 

"  Aye,"  cried  the  Baron  ;  "  gone,  so  the  varlets  who  ran 
here  told  me ;  gone,  and  a  long  time  St.  Peter  will  have 
of  it  reading  off  the  list  of  his  sins.  By  Our  Lady,  they 
were  not  a  few ;  and  perhaps  mine  are  as  many,  ha ! 
Well,  even  the  devil  will  not  frighten  me  much,  after 
what  I  have  lived  through  !  " 

"  You  must  live  and  undo  your  misdeeds  if  you  can, 
dear  grandfather,"  said  Richard,  whose  own  conscience 
was  as  yet  very  easy. 

"  Yes,  I  must  have  a  talk  with  the  abbot.  Live  like  a 
demon,  then  square  at,  the  end  with  the  priests  !  Two  or 
three  fields  added  to  the  glebe,  a  few  sols  ready  money, 
and  the  saints  forget  all  about  you,  and  let  you  crawl 
under  the  gate  of  heaven  —  that  is  the  way  a  man  of 
spirit  should  live  and  die  !  But  the  Valmonters  —  the  boy 
Gilbert  ? " 

"  I  killed  him,"  said  Richard,  deliberately. 

"  Good ;  he  had  never  done  any  harm  ;  neither  have 
wolf  whelps  ;  but  we  kill  them  just  the  same.  And  John 
of  the  Iron  Arm  ?  " 

"  He  is  here.  De  Carnac  struck  him  down,  but  he  is 
alive ;  they  have  him  in  the  dungeon  now." 

"  Good  again ;  I  can  hear  him  whistle  his  tune  before 
we  let  him  die.  Ai,  lad,  you  will  be  a  right  good  seigneur 
for  this  old  castle.  I  shall  sleep  in  the  ground  more 
snugly  because  I  know  you  possess  all.  I  have  fought, 
scraped,  and  lied  to  make  the  barony  larger.  No  man 
shall  ever  say  Gaston  forgave  a  foe,  or  failed  to  square  off 
a  grudge,  and  now  Raoul  has  been  paid  —  ha!  " 

So  Richard  left  the  old  man  to  chuckle  in  his  dark- 
ness. The  next  day  the  abbot  came  over  with  congratula- 
tions, blessings,  and  a  request  for  the  great  altar  cross  of 
Valmont,  —  which  was  due,  because  the  "  aggrave  and 
reaggravc"  double  and  triple  anathema,  he  had  thundered 
against  the  Valmonters,  doubtless  went  far  to  blast  their 


ISO  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

prowess ;  and  Longsword  all  piously  gave  the  cross. 
The  monks  chanted  Te  Deiims  and  enough  masses  to  lift 
every  fallen  St.  Juliener  promptly  out  of  purgatory. 
Richard  went  about  with  merry  face  and  loud  laugh. 
"  After  the  feast  comes  the  dance  !  "  he  would  cry,  when 
all  marvelled  at  his  nimbleness  after  so  hard  a  melfa. 

At  the  great  feast  in  honor  of  the  victory,  Richard  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  long  horseshoe  table,  drank  with  the 
deepest,  and  never  blushed  when  Theroulde  likened  him 
in  valor  to  Huon  of  Bordeaux  or  even  to  Roland. 

"You  seem  very  joyous  to-night,  dear  son,"  said  Sebas- 
tian, who  appeared  gloomier  than  ever. 

"  And  why  should  I  not  ? "  quoth  Richard,  stretching 
forth  for  more  wine.  "  Have  I  not  blotted  out  my  grand- 
father's enemy  ;  have  I  not  a  noble  barony  ;  have  I  not  the 
love  of  the  best  of  friends,"  with  a  glance  at  Musa,  "and 
of  the  fairest  woman  in  the  world  ? " 

"  Ah  !  sweet  son,"  replied  Sebastian,  sighing,  "  all  these 
shall  pass  away !  The  grass  withereth,  the  flower  fad- 
eth ;  there  will  come  a  time  when  you  will  cry,  '  Would 
God  I  had  been  mindful  of  my  vow  and  gone  to  Jeru- 
salem.' Even  now  it  is  not  too  late ;  let  us  go  and  hear 
the  holy  Peter  of  Amiens,  called  Peter  the  Hermit." 

Richard  cut  him  short  with  a  direful  oath.  "  Speak  not 
again  of  Jerusalem.  I  care  more  for  Mary  Kurkuas  and 
for  Musa  than  for  ten  thousand  Jerusalems !  Let  others 
who  have  more  sin  on  their  souls,  and  are  more  frighted 
by  priests'  patter,  go  if  they  list.  For  me  I  give  you  the 
good  Arab  saying  :  — 

" '  Begone  all  eating  cares  this  night ! 
Who  recks  to  see  the  morning  light  ? ' " 

Then,  to  a  serving-varlet :  "  Here,  fellow,  another  horn." 
And  Richard  stood  up  with  all  eyes  upon  him.  "To  Mary 
Kurkuas,"  he  drank,  "and  long  may  she  be  the  liege  lady 
of  St.  Julien." 

Every  man  present,  except  Sebastian,  roared  out  the 
pledge ;  but  Sebastian  only  sat  still,  and  prayed  to  the 
saints. 


HOW   RICHARD'S  SIN   WAS   REWARDED         151 

Thus  sped  some  weeks,  and  old  Baron  Gaston  breathed 
his  last.  Before  he  died  John  of  the  Iron  Arm  had  gone 
before  him,  in  a  manner  better  surmised  than  said.  The 
Baron  had  felt  his  sins  coming  home  upon  him  as  his  time 
drew  nigh.  The  abbot  went  to  see  him  very  often.  Gas- 
ton  wished  to  die  as  a  monk.  The  brethren  put  on  him 
the  monk's  robe  and  scapulary,  the  sub-prior  pronounced 
over  him  some  words  of  consecration,  and  the  dying  sinner 
muttered  some  half-articulate  vows.  Yet  he  seemed  more 
concerned  as  to  what  would  befall  his  good  horse  Fleuri 
when  he  was  gone,  than  about  the  welfare  of  his  soul. 
Around  his  bed  night  and  day  sat  his  petty  nobles  and 
neighbors  watching  in  solemn  silence,  except  to  cross  them- 
selves when  a  magpie  croaked,  or  when  it  was  said  that  a 
vulture  hovered  over  the  castle  —  sure  sign  of  the  death- 
angel's  approach.  The  moment  the  Baron  was  dead,  the 
serving-boys  ran  through  the  castle,  emptying  every  vessel 
of  water,  lest  in  one  the  straying  soul  should  drown  itself. 
The  monks  gave  him  a  funeral  as  became  one  of  their 
own  order,  and  one  who  had  made  over  to  them  so  wide  a 
stretch  of  farm-land.  Ten  days  after  Gaston  was  buried, 
they  proclaimed  Richard  Baron  of  St.  Julien.  Lady  Mar- 
garet was  her  father's  only  heir ;  but  she  was  far  away, 
and  a  man  with  a  strong  arm  was  needed  in  that  troubled 
seigneury.  So  Richard  Longsword  sat  down  in  the  Baron's 
high  seat  at  the  end  of  the  great  hall,  and  all  the  lesser 
nobles  came  before  him,  knelt,  placed  their  hands  in  his, 
and  swore  themselves  "his  men."  And  Richard  raised 
each  up,  kissed  him  on  the  mouth,  and  promised  love  and 
protection  so  long  as  he  observed  fealty.  Fealty,  Richard 
himself  owed  in  name  to  the  Count  of  Auvergne,  with  the 
young  William  of  Aquitaine  as  overlord  of  all.  But  times 
were  turbulent,  Aquitaine  and  Toulouse  at  bitter  feud. 
Richard  looked  upon  the  castle,  the  stout  men,  the  broad 
lands,  and  the  blue  sky :  "  No  power  can  say  me  nay," 
was  his  laugh,  "  saving  God  and  Mary  Kurkuas."  And  one 
fears  he  did  not  greatly  dread  the  former.  But  the  barony 
he  ruled  with  a  strong  hand,  and  ended  the  petty  tyran- 
nies of  the  lesser  nobles  upon  their  serfs ;  while  Sebastian 


152  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

as  chancellor  chased  from  office  the  chaplain  of  St.  Julien, 
a  rollicking,  hard-swearing  sinner,  with  a  consort,  six  chil- 
dren, and  wide  fame  as  a  toper.  In  his  stead  reigned 
Sebastian  himself,  who  soon  crossed  swords  even  with  the 
abbot :  first,  because  there  were  fowls  in  the  abbey  kettles 
Fridays ;  second,  because  the  brethren  bartered  smacks 
with  the  bouncing  village  maids.  "  Peccatum  venalel" 
cried  the  abbot  to  the  last  charge,  and  defended  the 
former  by  saying  that  fowls  were  created  along  with  fish 
on  Friday,  and  who  that  day  refused  fish  ?  So  both  good 
men  complained  to  Richard,  but  he  merrily  said  that  Nasr, 
as  an  impartial  infidel,  should  compose  their  quarrel.  And 
ignoring  their  war,  Longsword  rode  up  and  down  the  bar- 
ony, setting  the  crooked  straight,  making  the  "villains" 
worship  him  for  his  ready  laugh,  his  great  storehouse  of 
humor,  his  willingness  to  stand  with  the  weak  against  the 
strong.  Only  men  who  had  followed  him  at  Valmont 
whispered  about  him.  One  day  Richard  heard  two  men- 
at-arms  with  their  heads  together,  while  he  sat  at  chess 
with  Musa. 

"  Our  seigneur  is  a  terrible  man.  You  should  have  seen 
him  in  the  chapel." 

"  From  what  I  was  told,  he  smote  the  very  relic  box. 
He  must  shudder  lest  the  hand  of  God  be  laid  on  him." 

"  He  shudder  ?  Lord  Richard  would  not  shrink,  if  he 
saw  a  thousand  fiends.  His  heart  is  made  of  iron,  like  his 
hands,  if  only  you  could  see  it.  Yet  sometimes  I  tremble 
lest  we  all  be  smitten  a  deadly  blow  for  his  deed.  We  all 
stood  by  consenting,  though  the  stroke  was  his." 

Richard  heard,  and  the  whispers  so  shook  his  mind  that 
he  made  a  false  move,  lost  a  piece,  lost  the  game.  Musa 
saw  that  he  was  silent  for  once  that  evening.  A  messenger 
had  come  the  day  before  from  La  Haye :  Mary  was  well 
and  joyous ;  they  would  have  a  bridal  that  would  be  a  tale 
through  all  the  South  Country.  Yet  Richard  was  no  longer 
merry.  Musa  confided  his  anxiety  to  Herbert,  who  had 
become  his  firm  friend. 

"  The  Cid  my  brother  is  not  well.  He  talks  in  his  sleep  ; 
he  boasts  before  men,  but  fears  to  be  left  alone.  Last  night 


HOW   RICHARD'S   SIN   WAS   REWARDED         153 

he  cried  out  on  his  bed  to  take  away  Gilbert  de  Valmont 
and  his  fair,  blood-stained  hairs." 

Herbert  shook  his  head.  "  The  'little  lord  '  "  —  for  so 
he  fondly  called  his  mighty  nursling  —  "  has  done  a  deed, 
even  I,"  he  laughed  grimly,  "  who  have  a  few  things  to 
tell  the  priests,  would  not  like  to  dip  hands  in.  Slaying 
the  lad  was  no  wrong,  mind  you.  But  the  altar !  the  altar ! 
Better  kill  fifty  in  cold  blood  than  shatter  a  relic  box  ! " 

"  No,  I  think  he  fears  lest  Allah  requires  the  boy's  blood 
at  his  hands." 

Herbert  brayed  out  a  great  laugh.  "  God  will  never 
wink  twice,  caring  for  those  Valmonters.  They  say  Louis 
is  coming  north  with  a  band  to  take  vengeance.  Pretty 
fighting  —  no  music  sweeter  than  that  of  sword-blades." 

"I  would  that  the  princess  were  here,"  said  Musa,  "to 
lift  Richard  from  his  black  mood."  But  when  the  news 
came  that  Louis  was  trying  to  induce  the  Counts  of  Aqui- 
taine  and  Toulouse  to  make  peace  and  march  against  St. 
Julien,  Richard  only  laughed  loudly  as  Herbert. 

"  By  St.  Maurice,  let  all  come ;  and  bring  the  king  of 
France  and  Duke  of  Lorraine.  Valmont  was  too  easy  a 
task ;  let  me  match  my  strength  against  great  lords  now !  " 

Musa  only  shook  his  head. 

"Allah  grant,"  was  his  prayer,  "that  naught  befall  un- 
happily, until  we  go  back  to  La  Haye  for  the  wedding. 
Mary  Kurkuas's  bright  eyes  will  scatter  all  this  darkness." 

But  day  after  day  went  on,  and  no  bolt  fell.  Richard 
continued  to  ride  hard,  hunt  hard,  drink  hard.  Musa 
began  to  feel,  however,  that  the  shadow  was  beginning  to 
lift.  Louis  had  been  unable  to  induce  Toulouse  and 
Aquitaine  to  compose  their  feud ;  there  was  little  to  fear 
from  his  quarter.  Then  one  afternoon  came  the  stroke 
from  heaven. 

A  fair  sunny  afternoon  it  was,  in  the  late  summer. 
Richard  had  been  up  with  the  dawn,  following  a  great 
boar  over  the  mountains.  The  dogs  had  brought  the 
beast  to  bay,  and  his  white  tusks  had  killed  three  hounds, 
before  Longsword  had  ended  all  with  a  stroke  of  his 
Danish  hunting-axe.  The  boar  was  a  giant  of  his  kind. 


154  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

They  brought  him  on  a  packhorse,  that  staggered  beneath 
the  weight.  The  carcass  was  laid  out  before  the  huge 
fireplace  of  the  hall,  and  all  the  castle  girls  and  women 
stood  round  pinching  his  shaggy  sides,  feeling  of  his  white 
teeth,  laughing,  chattering,  and  screaming.  Richard,  hav- 
ing put  off  his  hunting-boots,  was  calling  to  a  serving-boy 
for  water,  when  the  bronze  slab  at  the  gate  began  to  clang, 
proclaiming  a  stranger. 

"  Ht?k,  porter,  open  to  me ! "  was  the  cry  without,  and 
there  was  a  scurry  of  many  feet  on  stairways,  for  few 
visitors  made  their  way  to  St.  Julien. 

Presently  they  led  into  the  hall  a  wandering  pedler. 
He  had  a  weighty  pack  of  Paris  pins,  of  ribbons,  of  Eastern 
silks,  and  fifty  kinds  of  petty  gewgaws  that  set  the  women 
oh-ing  and  ah-ing.  But  when  he  undid  his  bundles,  he 
dragged  forth  a  letter,  a  roll  of  parchment,  carefully  sealed. 

"This,  fair  lord,"  said  he  to  Richard,  "I  was  bidden 
to  bring  you  from  Marseilles,  where  a  shipmaster  put  it  in 
my  hands." 

"From  Sicily  —  from  Cefalu,  then."  Richard  had  not 
expected  a  letter  so  early,  but  so  much  the  merrier.  Only 
he  was  puzzled  when  he  saw  that  the  superscription  was 
not  in  the  hand  of  his  brother  Stephen,  the  usual  scribe  for 
his  father.  Richard  broke  the  seal,  which  he  did  not  rec- 
ognize, unrolled,  and  read ;  while  the  girls  swarmed  round 
the  pedler,  ransacked  his  wares,  and  pleaded  with  the  men 
to  be  generous  with  the  spoils  of  Valmont,  and  buy. 

But  Musa,  as  he  looked  at  Richard  reading,  saw  sudden 
sweat-beads  standing  on  his  forehead.  The  letter  ran  thus : 

"  Robert  of  Evroult,  Bishop  of  Messina,  to  his  very  dear 
spiritual  son,  the  valiant  and  most  Christian  knight,  Sir 
Richard  Longsword,  sends  his  greeting  and  episcopal 
blessing. 

"  May  the  grace  of  our  Lord,  the  pity  of  our  Blessed 
Lady,  ever  Virgin,  the  sweet  savor  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  be 
upon  you.  May  Michael,  Raphael,  and  Gabriel,  the  great 
and  all-adorable  archangels,  spread  their  shields  about 
you,  to  deliver  you.  May  all  the  company  of  the  saints 


HOW   RICHARD'S  SIN  WAS  REWARDED         155 

on  high  intercede  for  you  at  the  throne  of  the  Father  of  all 
mercies,  and  bless  you ;  and  may  God  Himself  grant  unto 
you  strength  and  peace. 

"  Fair  son,  it  has  pleased  the  Most  High  to  lay  upon  me 
a  burden  which  makes  my  bones  to  cry  out,  and  my  nights 
to  be  spent  in  tears  and  in  roarings.  Yet  who  better  than 
I  may  write  you  ?  Bow  to  the  will  of  God,  and  listen. 
Ten  days  since  it  befell  that  Moslem  corsairs  landed  by 
night  at  Cefalu,  and  stormed  your  father's  castle.  The 
tales  we  have  heard  are  scanty,  for  few  who  saw  what 
befell  are  here  to  tell.  From  a  man-at-arms  who  escaped, 
it  would  seem  that  the  castle  was  surprised  about  mid- 
night. The  garrison  was  small ;  for  my  lord,  your  father, 
had  sent  many  of  his  men  into  the  mountains  to  chastise 
some  robbers.  They  say  your  father  laid  about  him  as 
became  a  Christian  and  a  cavalier,  and  slew  many;  yet 
•at  the  end,  seeing  there  was  no  hope,  stabbed  your  mother 
with  his  own  hands  to  spare  her  captivity  amongst  the 
infidels.  They  say,  too,  that  your  brother  Stephen  died 
fighting  with  a  valor  worthy  of  his  father  and  brother. 
As  for  your  sister  Eleanor,  I  hear  nothing.  Therefore,  we 
dare  hope,  if  indeed  it  is  a  thing  to  hope,  that  she  is  not 
dead,  but  carried  away  captive  by  the  unbelievers.  Soon 
as  the  alarm  was  spread,  Prince  Tancred,  who  was  near 
Cefalu,  took  ships  and  followed  after  the  pirate's  two  ves- 
sels. One  outsailed  him ;  he  captured  the  other  after 
much  struggle.  The  prisoners  confessed  their  chief  was 
the  Emir  Iftikhar,  one  time  in  Count  Roger's  service.  The 
emir  was  on  the  vessel  which  escaped  with  your  sister,  so 
said  the  captives.  The  prince  put  to  death  his  prisoners 
in  a  manner  meet  to  remind  them  of  the  greater  torments 
waiting  their  unbelieving  souls.  Rumor  has  it,  Iftikhar  has 
sent  a  creature  of  his,  one  Zeyneb,  to  France  to  seek  your 
hurt.  This  is  incredible,  yet  be  guarded.  I  have  had  masses 
said  for  the  souls  of  your  kinsfolk ;  and  consider,  sweet 
son,  even  in  your  grief,  how  now  they  are  removed  far 
from  this  evil  world,  and  have  their  dwelling  with  the 
saints  in  light.  May  the  tender  pity  of  Christ  comfort 
you,  and  give  you  peace.  Farewell." 


156  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

A  great  cry,  inarticulate,  terrible,  burst  from  Richard's 
lips.  He  staggered  as  he  stood.  Herbert  grasped  him 
round,  to  steady.  The  parchment  fell  heavily  from  his 
hand.  Musa  caught  it,  read  a  few  lines. 

"  My  brother !  Allah  have  compassion  —  "  he  sobbed, 
his  own  heart  melting  fast. 

"  Where  is  Sebastian  ?  "  came  the  choking  whisper  from 
Longsword. 

"Gone  to  the  village,  lord,"  hesitated  Bertrand,  "to 
confess  two  thieves.  He  is  staying  to  the  feast  for  the 
executioner  and  priest  after  the  hanging !  " 

"  My  God !  My  God !  Why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  ?  " 
Richard  was  moaning.  His  face  was  ashen.  They  looked 
on  him,  some  about  to  stop  their  ears  at  his  blasphemy ; 
but  one  glance  told  it  was  no  blasphemy,  but  bitter  truth. 
He  was  putting  by  Herbert  lightly  as  a  child,  and  spring- 
ing toward  the  door  that  led  down  to  the  drawbridge.  At 
the  sight  of  his  face  the  women  began  to  weep. 

"  My  brother  !  my  brother !  stay  !  "  Musa  was  calling. 
He  might  better  have  cried  to  the  whirlwind. 

"  Halt  him,  men !  "  shouted  Herbert,  leaping  after. 
"  He  is  mad ;  he  will  slay  himself !  " 

Two  or  three  men-at-arms  leaped  out,  as  if  to  stop  him. 
At  one  flash  from  his  eyes  they  fell  back,  crossing  them- 
selves. Richard  ran  out  upon  the  drawbridge.  They 
could  see  his  feet  totter ;  all  held  breath  —  the  moat  was 
very  deep ;  he  recovered,  ran  on. 

Herbert  made  a  trumpet  of  his  hands  and  shouted  to  the 
porter  at  the  outwork :  — 

"  Stop  him  !     Close  the  gate  !  " 

But  Richard  ran  right  past  the  gazing  fellow,  and 
reached  the  open.  Musa  had  sped  after  him. 

"  Richard,  you  are  mad  !  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  was 
his  despairing  call.  Longsword  only  ran  the  faster.  They 
saw  him  leave  the  beaten  road,  and  fly  along  over  garden 
walls,  ditches,  hedges,  with  great  bounds  worthy  of  a 
courser. 

Musa  pressed  behind,  but  soon  found  himself  completely 
outdistanced.  Richard  was  heading  straight  for  the  lower- 


HOW   RICHARD'S   SIN   WAS   REWARDED         157 

ing  mountain.  The  Arab  turned  back,  panting  for  breath. 
Already  the  Norman  was  out  of  sight,  lost  in  the  forest. 
Musa  hastened  to  the  castle. 

"  Call  out  all  the  men,  send  word  to  the  village,"  was 
his  command  to  De  Carnac ;  "  beat  up  the  mountain  with 
dogs,  or  you  will  never  see  your  baron  again !  " 


CHAPTER   XV 

HOW   RICHARD    FOUND    THE    CRUCIFIX 

As  Richard  Longsword  ran  across  field  and  fallow  that 
bright  afternoon,  had  the  warm  sun  turned  to  ink,  he  would 
scarce  have  known  it.  Sight  he  had  not,  nor  hearing.  He 
did  not  feel  the  bushes  that  whipped  smartly  in  his  face  as 
he  dashed  through  them ;  he  did  not  see  the  wide  ravine 
of  the  brook  brawling  at  his  feet.  Only  by  some  mad 
instinct  he  leaped  and  cleared  it,  and  ran  on  and  on ;  flee- 
ing —  from  what  ?  His  Head  was  throbbing,  though  he 
had  touched  no  wine ;  there  was  a  great  weight  in  his 
breast,  numbing,  crushing.  He  even  tried  to  stop  himself, 
to  look  about,  to  call  back  sense  and  reason.  Useless ; 
the  passion  mastered  him,  and  still  he  ran  on. 

As  he  ran,  he  prayed  ;  prayed  aloud,  and  knew  not  what 
he  prayed.  "  Holy  Mary,  pray  for  me !  Holy  Mother  of 
God,  pray  for  me !  Holy  Virgin  of  Virgins,  pray  for  me  ! 
Mother  of  divine  grace,  pray  for  me  !  " 

And  still  on  !  Would  the  fire  in  his  brain  never  quench  ? 
He  stumbled  over  a  fallen  tree,  and  knew  he  was  in  the 
forest.  He  rose,  glanced  back ;  he  could  see  at  last,  — 
the  tower  of  St.  Julien  was  still  in  sight.  And  in  the 
tower  were  men  and  maids  who  could  laugh,  and  chatter, 
and  love  the  sunshine.  Away  from  them  !  Richard  broke 
in  among  the  crowding  trees,  and  ran  yet  faster.  Pres- 
ently, though  his  pain  grew  not  the  less,  it  ceased  to  be 
one  aching  blur  of  feelings.  Forms,  faces,  were  darting 
before  his  eyes ;  now  among  the  trees ;  now  peering  from 
the  thickets  ;  now  flitting  along  some  grassy  mead  on  the 
mountain  side.  They  were  not  real.  He  knew  it  well. 

158 


HOW   RICHARD   FOUND  THE   CRUCIFIX        159 

When  he  fastened  his  gaze  on  them,  they  were  nowhere. 
But  still  he  ran.  His  feet  flew  like  those  of  the  hunted 
roe.  And  was  he  not  hunted  ?  Was  he  not  fleeing  ? 
From  what  ? 

Richard  had  known  his  Latin,  cavalier  that  he  was. 
The  words  of  the  service  were  ringing  in  his  ears  —  who 
uttered  them  ?  "  Whither  shall  I  go  from  Thy  spirit,  or 
whither  shall  I  flee  from  Thy  presence  ?  If  I  ascend  up 
into  heaven,  Thou  art  there ;  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell, 
behold  Thou  art  there."  The  words  sounded  and  sounded 
again.  Richard  clapped  his  fingers  to  his  ears.  Still  he 
heard  them.  And  he  must  run,  run  as  never  before,  if 
he  would  escape  from  his  pursuer. 

Presently  he  stumbled  over  a  second  log ;  fell  headlong 
beneath  a  pine  tree  upon  a  slipping  carpet  of  dead  needles. 
The  fall  was  heavy ;  he  felt  his  head  thrill  with  a  new 
pain.  For  a  moment  he  lay  still ;  and  a  cool  fern  pressed 
comfortingly  against  his  cheek.  It  was  good  to  rest  quietly 
and  look  upward  into  the  dark  tracery  far  overhead.  He 
could  just  see  a  little  patch  of  the  blue  shimmering  through 
the  pine  boughs,  a  very  blue  bit  of  sky.  If  heaven  lay 
beyond  that  azure,  how  fair  a  land  it  must  be !  Richard 
pressed  his  hands  to  his  brow,  and  held  them  there  for 
long.  The  throbbing  had  a  little  abated.  He  sat  up ; 
looked  around.  Not  a  sound  except  the  drone  of  a 
mountain  honey-bee  hanging  over  some  blossom.  Trees, 
trees,  before,  behind.  His  eye  lost  itself  in  the  ranges 
and  mazes  of  gray-black  trunks.  There  was  no  path  ;  he 
had  no  recollection  of  the  way.  He  called  aloud  —  only 
echoes  from  far-off  glens. 

Richard  rose  and  sat  upon  the  log ;  and  his  fingers  tore 
at  the  wood's  soft  mould.  Would  God  his  mind  had  been 
in  His  hands  !  The  Cefalu  folk  —  they  were  all  before  him 
—father,  mother,  sister,  brother.  He  should  never  see  them 
more  in  this  world  —  and  in  the  next  ?  Oh,  horror !  what 
part  could  his  sainted  mother  have  with  her  unholy,  mur- 
derous son !  His  father  had  sinned  after  his  kind,  yet  to 
him  little  had  been  given  of  holy  teaching,  and  little  would 
be  required.  But  he,  Richard  Longsword,  had  he  not  been 


160  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

brought  up  gently  by  his  mother,  as  became  a  high-born 
Christian  cavalier  ?  Were  not  her  prayers  still  in  his  ears  ? 
Had  there  not  been  at  his  side  for  guide  and  counsellor 
Sebastian,  who  was  one  of  the  elect  of  God?  Had  he 
not  given  his  mother  a  pious  and  holy  kiss  when  he  fared 
away  to  Auvergne  ?  and  did  she  not  send  him  forth  with 
his  virgin  knightly  honor,  to  do  great  deeds  for  the  love 
of  Christ?  and  how  had  he  kept  that  honor?  He  had 
slain  Raoul,  and  there  was  never  a  stain  upon  his  con- 
science; but  Gilbert  the  lad,  the  innocent  boy  who  had 
poured  out  his  blood  at  the  very  altar  —  was  it  for  the 
love  of  Christ  that  he  had  slain  him?  And  that  vaunt 
he  had  flung  to  heaven  when  the  keep  of  Valmont  burned  : 
"  Let  God  Himself  undo  the  deed ! "  Lo,  it  was  made 
good  —  not  even  God,  were  Gilbert  de  Valmont  to  stand 
forth  with  breath,  could  take  back  that  sinful  stroke  of 
Trenchefer ! 

Richard  cried  aloud  in  his  agony ;  and  the  black  woods 
rang,  and  birds  flew  screaming  from  their  haunts,  as 
though  the  hawk  were  on  them ;  echo  and  reecho,  then 
the  woods  were  still.  Richard  roused  himself  by  a  painful 
effort.  The  tree  trunks  were  darkening ;  the  patch  of 
blue  above  waxed  dim ;  night  was  approaching. 

"  St.  Michael !  "  he  muttered,  "  I  must  get  away  quickly, 
or  sleep  under  the  trees." 

But  a  native  of  the  region  might  well  have  wandered  in 
that  dusky  maze,  and  where  were  Richard's  wits  for  wood- 
craft ?  He  plunged  heedlessly  onward,  forcing  aside  sap- 
lings by  brute  strength,  his  mind  on  anything  but  his  path. 
One  thing  alone  he  knew  and  cared  for,  —  never  on  earth, 
never  in  heaven,  would  he  see  his  mother  again,  or  his 
father,  or  Stephen,  the  brother  at  whose  learning  he  had 
mocked,  but  in  secret  revered.  And  his  sister  ?  Well 
for  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  five  hundred  leagues  lay  betwixt  him 
and  Richard  Longsword,  or  the  emir  might  have  found  his 
proof-panoply  become  his  shroud  ! 

Still  Richard  wandered.  It  darkened  fast.  He  began 
to  find  himself  peering  askance  into  every  shadow.  He 
lengthened  his  stride,  for  the  forest  was  proving  too  dense 


for  running.  His  speed  led  nowhere — trees,  and  ever  trees, 
and  still  the  light  was  failing.  Richard  raised  his  voice 
for  a  great  halloo.  Echoes  again,  but  out  of  the  gloom 
came  more,  —  a  low,  deep  growl ;  and  the  Norman  knew 
its  meaning  well.  There  was  a  little  break  in  the  forest ; 
the  gloaming  was  a  trifle  stronger.  Richard  saw  before 
him  two  eyes,  bright  in  the  twilight  as  coals  of  fire,  and  the 
vague  outlines  of  a  huge,  dark  form.  All  the  battle  instinct 
of  the  Norman  leaped  into  life. 

"  Good,"  cried  he  to  the  woods,  "  a  bear !  " 

He  snatched  at  his  side,  no  sword — unbuckled  at  the 
castle,  just  before  he  read  the  letter.  But  he  laughed  in 
very  delight  at  what  might  master  his  chief  enemy  —  con- 
science. "Good!"  cried  he  again,  and  he  plucked  up  a 
great  stone.  At  the  moment  he  felt  as  if  he  could  grapple 
the  brute  in  bare  hands  and  come  off  victor ;  and  if  other- 
wise —  what  matter  ? 

With  all  his  might  he  dashed  the  stone  between  those 
gleaming  eyes.  A  mighty  snarl.  Richard  tore  the  bough 
from  a  tree  with  giant  grip,  and  sprang  to  the  battle. 
Another  snarl  and  growl,  and  behold !  the  brute  instead  of 
rearing  and  showing  teeth,  shambled  away,  and  was  lost  in 
the  shadows  of  the  forest.  Doubtless  it  had  just  been 
feeding,  and  would  not  fight  unless  at  bay.  But  Richard 
cried  out,  cut  by  his  pain :  — 

"  Dear  God,  even  the  beasts  turn  from  me,  I  am  so 
accursed ! " 

He  sat  again  upon  a  log;  it  was  very  dark.  He  could  just 
see  the  tall  columns  of  the  trees.  The  patches  of  sky 
were  a  violet-black  now.  He  stared  and  stared  ;  he  could 
go  no  farther ;  to  wander  on  were  madness.  There  were 
deep  ravines  on  the  mountain  side.  Richard  remained 
still  a  long  time.  As  the  darkness  grew,  his  sight  of  things 
past  increased.  His  boyhood ;  his  life  in  South  Italy  and 
Sicily ;  his  first  meeting  with  Mary ;  his  duel  with  Louis ; 
his  parting  with  Mary ;  the  storming  of  Valmont ;  his 
mother,  ever  his  mother.  She  had  nursed  him  herself  — 
rare  mark  of  devotion  for  a  seigneur's  lady.  She  had  been 
proudest  of  the  proud,  when  he  had  won  his  honors.  She 


162  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

had  whispered  to  him  an  hundred  sweet  admonitions  that 
dear,  bright  night  he  was  last  at  Cefalu.  Did  he  love  her 
more  than  Mary?  Praises  be  to  God,  there  are  loves  that 
never  war ;  and  such  were  these !  Oh,  had  he  but  been  at 
Cefalu,  with  his  good  right  arm,  and  Musa,  and  Herbert, 
and  Nasr — how  different,  how  much  better!  And  now 
all  were  dead  save  Eleanor,  his  bright-haired  sister,  and 
she  —  the  captive  of  Iftikhar.  Why,  if  God  had  been  so 
wroth  with  him,  had  He  not  stricken  him,  and  let  the  inno- 
cent go  free  ?  He  was  strong ;  his  will  was  adamant  as 
the  blade  of  Trenchefer ;  to  save  those  dear  ones  a  single 
pang  —  what  would  he  not  suffer!  Were  they  not  —  all 
save  his  sister —  happy  now  ?  Surely  the  saints  had  taken 
joy  to  welcome  his  mother  and  brother ;  and  within,  his 
father's  soul  was  white,  if  some  little  seared  without. 

"Ah  !  "  cried  Richard,  "if  my  own  heart  were  clean,  I 
would  not  grieve.  I  would  pray  for  their  souls,  and  love 
Mary  Kurkuas,  and  know  that  pure  angels  intercede  for 
me  at  God's  throne  ;  but  now  —  what  with  the  blood  of 
Gilbert  de  Valmont,  the  shattering  of  the  altar  —  what  is 
mine  but  torment  eternal !  " 

And  Richard  saw,  he  was  quite  sure,  as  he  strained  his 
eyes  in  the  dark,  a  fair  green  country  strewn  with  flowers, 
and  in  the  midst  a  battlemented  city,  and  within  that  a 
glittering  throne  with  myriad  bright  angels,  playing  lute 
and  harp  unceasing.  Upon  the  throne  sat  an  old  man, 
with  a  white  beard  falling  to  his  girdle,  crowned  with  gold, 
and  holding  an  orb  and  sceptre;  and  Richard  knew  this 
was  God  the  Father.  Then  he  saw  angels  bringing  up  men 
before  the  throne :  Raoul  de  Valmont,  John  of  the  Iron 
Arm,  and  all  their  sinful  crew.  And  God  said  to  them  : 
"  Why  have  you  come  here,  your  sins  unrepented,  unshriven, 
all  unprepared  to  die?"  And  they  answered :  "Richard 
Longsword  has  sent  us ;  he  was  wiser  than  Thou,  Lord, 
and  could  not  bear  with  us  as  Thou  hadst  done  so  long." 
Then  God  said  :  "  Your  sins  are  very  great.  Depart  to  the 
lake  of  fire ! "  Then  they  brought  a  fair-haired,  girlish 
boy,  and  God  said :  "  Why  hast  thou  come,  dear  child, 
when  thou  hadst  not  done  on  earth  that  which  I  designed 


HOW  RICHARD   FOUND  THE  CRUCIFIX        163 

for  thee  ?  "  And  the  boy  answered  :  "  Richard  Longsword 
is  wiser  than  Thou ;  he  did  not  wish  me  to  be  on  earth." 
So  the  angels  gave  the  lad  white  wings  like  their  own,  and 
a  great  viol  like  a  jongleurs.  But  God  said  :  "  Concerning 
Richard  Longsword  it  is  written,  '  Whosoever  shall  offend 
one  of  these  little  ones,  that  believe  in  me,  it  were  better 
for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and 
that  he  were  drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea.' "  Then 
some  angels,  very  terrible,  approached  Richard  as  he  gazed, 
to  lead  him  to  the  throne ;  and  lo !  he  was  stripped  naked 
as  an  infant  at  the  font,  and  all  the  strength  had  sped  out 
of  him !  .  .  . 

A  mighty  peal  of  thunder !  the  jagged  lightnings  spring- 
ing above  the  trees ;  now  all  the  woods  were  lit  by  the 
white  bolts,  now  all  was  black ;  and  on  high,  giants  were 
dragging  down  pinnacles  of  a  mighty  fortress.  Richard 
cowered  on  his  seat.  The  raindrops  smote  him,  but  could 
not  cool  his  glowing  temples.  The  tale  of  the  great  storm 
that  presaged  Roland's  death  came  to  him  —  how  from 
Mount  St.  Michael  to  Cologne  there  was  pitch  darkness  at 
noonday.  Would  God  this  were  omen  of  his  death  only 
—  not  of  his  perdition !  Betwixt  the  lightnings  could  he 
not  see  children  running  about  with  two  heads,  and  all  the 
boughs  swelling  out  with  heads  of  serpents  —  sure  sign  of 
the  presence  of  the  devil?  And,  in  the  darkness,  what  was 
that  flickering  will-o'-the-wisp  form,  unless  it  was  Herodias's 
daughter  dancing,  dancing  with  glee,  as  they  said  she  ever 
did  when  she  saw  a  soul  devoted,  like  herself,  to  Satan  ? 
Would  the  night  ever  pass  ?  Richard  cowered  on  his  seat. 
At  last  —  and  who  might  say  how  long  it  was  in  coming  ?  — 
there  was  a  faint  tinge  among  the  tree  tops,  a  low  flutter  of 
wings  on  the  branches.  One  shy  bird  commenced  his  morn- 
ing call ;  another,  another.  The  blank  maze  of  tree  trunks 
began  to  unravel  into  moss-strewn  avenues.  The  dawn- 
ing was  at  hand,  and  the  sky  fast  coming  blue.  The  only 
traces  of  the  rain  were  the  diamond  drops  hanging  on  twig 
and  flower.  A  warm,  moist  odor  was  rising  in  the  wood  ; 
the  day  would  be  very  hot.  Richard  roused  himself.  His 
clothes  were  wet ;  he  flung  away  his  fur-lined  "  pelisson  "  ; 


164  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

the  heat  of  the  heavy  coat  was  intolerable.  His  head  swam, 
as  he  stood  up ;  but  he  summoned  his  strong  will.  His 
brain  steadied.  He  looked  about. 

"  I  am  lost,"  reasoned  he ;  "  there  is  only  one  way  to  find 
the  path  to  St.  Julien ;  I  must  go  above  the  trees.  From 
the  mountain  crest  I  can  see  which  side  to  go  down."  So 
he  climbed,  though  now  his  steps  were  no  longer  strong, 
and  his  feet  ached  wearily.  At  last  —  the  saints  above 
knew  after  how  long — he  saw  the  pines  thinning,  then  the 
rocks  shone  black  and  bare  in  the  sun.  One  last  effort  — 
and  he  was  out  of  the  forest;  the  jagged  summit  still 
towered  above  him,  but  he  could  look  forth  —  on  what  a 
view !  Far  and  wide  stretched  the  pleasant  Auvergne 
country ;  corn-land  and  orchard,  green  but  browning  with 
the  dying  summer.  The  mountains  pressed  in  on  every 
side,  north  and  west  the  great  volcanic  puys  tossed  their 
bleak  crests  far  into  the  blue,  as  if  piers  to  upbear  the 
heavens.  Away  to  the  east  were  more  hills  —  the  Ce- 
vennes;  and  beyond,  very  near  the  sky  line,  what  was  that 
whiteness  through  the  scattering  haze  —  the  Alps  ?  As  he 
looked  up,  an  eagle  rose  with  hoarse  scream  from  a  crag 
above,  and  flew  into  the  sky  straight  in  the  face  of  the  sun, 
until  his  broad  pinions  were  only  a  speck  against  the  glow- 
ing blue.  Richard  looked  downward.  To  his  right  and  far 
away  lay  a  village,  monastery  buildings,  a  tall  bare  tower  - 
St.  Julien  —  very  small ;  he  must  have  travelled  far.  But 
below  him,  at  his  feet,  so  that  he  felt  he  could  cast  a 
stone  upon  it,  was  another  tower  —  black,  smoke-stained; 
its  bare  parapet  open  to  heaven,  a  great  charred  mass 
around — Valmont!  Richard  gazed  and  shuddered.  "Dear 
God,"  he  cried  softly,  "  why  hast  Thou  led  me  here,  to 
show  me  the  place  of  my  sin  ?  Am  I  not  enough  pun- 
ished ?  " 

The  scream  of  the  eagle  had  died  away.  Higher  and 
higher  climbed  the  sun.  All  the  valleys  were  springing 
out  of  the  receding  shadow.  There  was  a  soft,  kind  wind 
upon  the  mountain.  Its  kiss  was  sweet  and  comforting ; 
but  Richard  needed  more  than  the  wind.  It  was  not  all 
pain  of  the  heart  that  tore  him  now.  His  head  was  very 


HOW   RICHARD   FOUND   THE   CRUCIFIX        165 

heavy ;  he  felt  his  knees  beating  together ;  at  times  his 
sight  grew  dim. 

"  I  am  ill,  in  fever,"  he  muttered  to  himself ;  "  I  must 
hasten  to  some  house,  or  I  shall  die,  and  then  —  But  he 
never  completed.  He  could  see  peasants'  cottages  beyond 
the  Valmont  tower ;  perhaps  the  dwellers  had  been  wronged 
by  his  men  the  night  of  the  sack,  and  would  make  him 
scantly  welcome ;  but  it  was  better  to  risk  that,  than  lie 
down  on  the  naked  crest  of  the/zy.  He  staggered  down- 
ward, ever  downward.  Thrice  he  fell ;  thrice  rose  by  a 
mighty  effort.  At  last  he  dimly  realized  that  the  ground 
before  him  no  longer  sloped ;  he  was  clear  of  rock  and 
trees,  and  before  him,  seared  and  bare,  was  the  keep  of 
Valmont.  Richard  fell  again,  this  time  on  soft  grass,  and 
lay  long.  His  head  had  ceased  to  pain  him,  but  he  felt 
weak  as  a  little  child.  "  I  shall  die !  Christ  pity  me  !  "  was 
all  his  thought.  But  again  he  rose,  rose  and  staggered 
onward.  The  ruin  drew  him  towards  it,  as  by  an  enchant- 
er's spell.  He  found  his  way  past  the  outer  wall,  through 
the  open  gate  where  the  weeds  were  already  twining.  One 
side  of  the  tower  had  fallen,  filling  the  moat ;  within,  the 
other  three  walls  rose,  bare,  fire-scarped,  cavernous.  Still 
Richard  dragged  forward.  He  was  upon  the  cinders  now; 
charred  beams,  benches.  Here  was  a  shivered  target, 
there  a  shattered  lance.  As  he  advanced,  three  crows 
flew,  coming  from  some  carrion  spoil  they  had  found  within. 
He  was  inside  the  enclosure  of  the  keep ;  the  sun  no 
longer  beat  on  him.  It  was  cool  and  still.  His  strength 
was  at  an  end.  On  a  pile  of  dust  and  ashes  were  little 
green  weeds  springing.  It  was  soft  He  lay  down,  and 
tried  to  close  his  eyes  and  call  back  some  prayers.  "  Here 
it  is  I  shall  die  !  "  his  wan  lips  muttered.  But  as  he  rested, 
something  hard  pressed  his  head.  He  took  it,  dragged  it 
from  the  dust.  Behold !  a  brass  crucifix,  and  right  across 
the  body  of  Our  Lord  a  deep,  rude  dint !  "  The  crucifix 
held  by  the  boy  when  I  slew  him ! "  moaned  Richard. 
Then  he  looked  on  the  face  of  the  Christ.  The  lips  moved 
not,  the  eyes  gave  no  sign ;  but  as  Richard  kept  gazing, 
he  felt  the  brass  turning  to  fire  in  his  hands,  —  pain,  but 


166  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

pain  infused  with  a  wondrous  gladness.  "  Christ  died  not 
for  the  spawn  of  Valmont !  "  had  been  his  blasphemy  ;  had 
Christ  died  for  him?  "Ah!  Sweet  Son  of  God,"  cried 
Richard  from  his  soul,  "  Thou  didst  not  come  to  earth  and 
suffer  for  the  pure  and  righteous,  but  Thou  didst  come  for 
such  as  I.  Thou  didst  pardon  the  thief  on  the  cross; 
canst  Thou  pardon  even  me  ?  I  have  committed  foul  mur- 
der, and  insulted  holy  relics,  and  made  the  heavens  ring 
with  my  blasphemies.  I  have  no  merit;  I  were  justly  sent 
to  perdition  for  my  sins;  I  lie  here,  perhaps  dying.  Have 
mercy,  Lord,  have  mercy !  "  Did  a  voice  speak  from  the 
blue  above  ?  Was  it  only  some  forest  bird  that  croaked  in 
Richard's  disordered  ear  ?  "  Lord,"  cried  Richard,  half 
rising,  "  if  Thou  canst  forgive,  do  not  let  me  die ;  let  me 
live,  and,  by  Thy  holy  agony,  I  swear  I  will  remember  the 
vow  of  my  youth ;  I  will  remember  the  sorrows  of  Thy 
Holy  City ;  and  I  will  rest  not  day  nor  night,  I  will  spare 
not  wealth  nor  love  nor  blood,  till  I  see  the  Cross  trium- 
phant upon  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  or  until  I  die — if  so 
God  wills  it !  "  And  he  knew  nothing  more  until  some  one 
was  dashing  water  in  his  face,  and  above  him  he  saw  the 
villain,  "  Giles  of  the  Mill,"  who  had  been  the  betrayer  of 
Valmont. 

"Ah,  lord,"  he  was  saying,  "well  it  was  that  Americ, 
the  leper,  wandering  here  in  search  for  red  adders,  found 
you  and  told  me  !  " 

"  Americ,  the  leper  ? "  asked  Richard,  his  wits  wandering. 

"  Yes,  lord ;  we  keep  him  shut  in  a  little  hut  outside  the 
hamlet.  But  early  in  the  mornings  we  let  him  go  out 
hunting  for  red  adders  with  white  bellies ;  for  if  he  eats 
enough  of  them  with  leeks,  he  is  cured.  But  you,  fair  sir, 
are  grievously  ill.  I  must  take  you  to  my  cottage." 

Then  Richard  lapsed  again  into  a  stupor  ;  and  when  next 
he  saw  the  world,  he  was  in  the  miller's  house.  The  good- 
wife  was  making  a  great  fire  with  vine  branches,  and  hang- 
ing a  huge  iron  pot  to  heat  water.  They  had  laid  Richard 
on  the  bed,  the  only  one  in  the  whole  house,  broad  enough 
for  both  parents  and  the  half-dozen  dirty,  shock-headed 
brats,  that  were  squalling  round  the  single  room,  and  chas- 


HOW   RICHARD   FOUND  THE   CRUCIFIX        167 

ing  the  little  pigs  who  belonged  there  as  much  as  them- 
selves. The  children  would  steal  up  to  the  bed  softly  on 
tiptoe,  and  make  curious  glances  at  the  "  great  seigneur," 
who  had  avenged  their  elder  brother  by  slaying  the  terrible 
Bull  of  Valmont.  Then  their  mother  would  cry  out  to 
them  to  keep  their  distance  :  "  Who  were  they  to  set  eyes 
on  the  mighty  lord,  who  could  send  them  all  to  the  gallows 
if  he  listed  ? "  But  Richard,  as  he  gazed  on  the  unkempt, 
freckled  faces,  said  in  his  heart,  "  Ah,  if  I  could  give  all 
the  St.  Julien  lands  for  the  one  white  conscience  of  that 
little  girl !  " 

Giles  of  the  Mill  presently  had  out  his  plodding  horse, 
and  pounded  away  on  the  road  to  St.  Julien,  while  his  wife 
called  in  two  wrinkled  old  crones,  who  looked  at  Richard, 
and  shook  their  heads,  then  whispered  almost  loud  enough 
to  let  him  understand.  The  women  put  strange  things  into 
the  pot :  the  feet  of  a  toad,  many  weeds  and  flowers,  the 
tail  of  a  kitten,  and  a  great  spider.  Then  when  the  water 
was  very  hot,  they  brought  some  to  him  in  a  huge  wooden 
spoon.  Richard,  though  he  knew  what  Arabian  physicians 
could  do,  was  too  weak  to  resist  them.  Presently  there 
was  a  clatter  of  hoofs  without,  and  Herbert,  Musa,  and 
Sebastian  were  coming  into  the  cottage.  The  face  of 
Musa  was  very  grave  when  he  touched  Richard's  wrist ; 
his  next  act  was  to  empty  the  kettle  on  the  earthen  floor. 
The  Norman's  last  strength  was  gone :  he  had  tried  to 
rise  to  greet  his  friends,  sank  back ;  his  words  were  but 
whispers.  Sebastian  bent  over  him. 

"  Dear  father,"  the  priest  barely  heard,  "  pray  for  me, 
pray  for  me ;  I  have  sworn  to  go  to  Jerusalem." 

But  Richard's  eyes  were  too  dim  to  see  the  light  break- 
ing on  Sebastian's  face.  Herbert  and  Musa  devised  a 
litter,  and  they  bore  the  knight  back  to  St.  Julien. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

HOW   LADY   IDE   FORGAVE   RICHARD 

RICHARD  LONGSWORD  lay  betwixt  death  and  life  for 
many  a  long  day.  Sebastian  hardly  left  him  for  an  hour, 
nor  did  Herbert;  but  it  was  Musa  that  saved  him.  Sebas- 
tian had  a  plainly  expressed  dislike  for  the  Spaniard's 
ministrations. 

"  It  is  suffering  Satan  to  cast  out  Satan,"  said  he,  to  the 
Andalusian's  face,  "to  suffer  an  infidel,  such  as  you,  to 
try  to  heal  Richard." 

"  Verily,  learned  sheik,"  answered  Musa,  with  one  of  his 
grave  smiles,  "  if  it  is  better  that  Richard  should  die  and 
dwell  with  your  saints,  I  will  not  use  my  art." 

"  No,"  sighed  Sebastian,  who  had  not  lived  in  Sicily  with 
eyes  quite  closed,  "  the  lad  is  reserved  for  great  things,  for 
God  and  Holy  Church.  He  must  not  die  ;  use  your  arts, 
and  I  will  pray  Our  Lady  that  she  will  defeat  the  evil  in 
your  science,  and  retain  the  good." 

So  Richard  was  medicined  according  to  the  teachings 
of  the  world-famed  Abul  Kasim,  and  Sebastian  went  so 
far  as  to  side  with  Musa,  when  the  Arab  forbade  the  offi- 
cious sub-prior  —  who  boasted  himself  -a  leech  —  to  speak 
again  of  poulticing  the  Baron's  head  with  sheep's  lungs. 
A  wandering  Jewish  doctor  from  the  school  of  Montpellier 
gave  more  efficient  aid.  The  abbot  brought  over  a  finger 
bone  of  St.  Matthew  to  put  under  Richard's  pillow,  —  sure 
talisman  against  madness.  And  it  was  sorely  needed. 
Many  a  time  those  about  the  bed  would  shiver  when  they 
heard  Longsword  scream  aloud  that  Gilbert  was  standing 
beside  him,  his  face  red  with  blood. 

1 68 


HOW   LADY   IDE    FORGAVE   RICHARD  169 

"  Remember  Mary's  tale,"  Richard  would  cry,  "  of  the 
evil  Emperor  Constans,  who  slew  his  brother,  and  how  the 
dead  man  stood  before  him  in  sleep,  holding  forth  a  cup 
of  blood,  saying,  '  Drink,  my  brother,  drink  ! '  So  with  me, 
Gilbert  cle  Valmont  holds  the  cup,  I  cannot  drink  it !  Holy 
Saints,  I  cannot !  Away,  away  with  him !  " 

And  in  half-lucid  moments,  Richard  would  hear  Sebas- 
tian pray,  "  Dear  Lord,  if  by  penance  and  sacrifice  of  mine 
I  gain  merit  in  Thy  sight,  lay  it  not  up  for  me,  but  for 
Richard,  my  dear  son.  For  I  love  him,  Lord,  more  than 
any  other,  saving  Thee  ;  and  he  has  sinned  grievously,  and 
Thy  hand  is  heavy  upon  him.  But  pity  him ;  he  repents, 
he  will  go  to  deliver  Thy  tomb  and  Holy  City." 

After  this,  when  Richard  lapsed  again  into  his  mad 
spells,  he  would  howl  that  he  was  being  cast  into  the 
burning  abyss  of  Baratron  with  the  devils  Berzebu  and 
Nero.  But  at  last  the  fever  left  him  wan  and  weak,  with 
a  face  grown  ten  years  older  in  two  months.  The  castle 
folk  rejoiced.  The  abbot  came  with  congratulations  and  a 
tale  how  Brother  Matthias,  admittedly  a  little  near-sighted, 
had  seen  in  broad  day  St.  Julien  himself,  accompanied  by 
his  stag,  who  had  signified  that  the  Baron  should  recover, 
and  give  five  hundred  "white  deniers  "  to  the  abbey  as 
thank-offering.  Sebastian  firmly  forbade  any  generosity. 

"  Do  you  doubt  the  vision  ? "  asked  Richard. 

Sebastian  smiled  grimly.  "  I  do  not  doubt.  But  St. 
Julien  asked  for  money  for  himself ;  and  your  all  is  dedi- 
cated to  a  higher  than  St.  Julien  —  Christ.  Our  Lord  did 
not  bid  us  bestow  riches  on  the  rich.  Need  there  will 
be  of  all  money  and  good  swords  and  strong  right  arms, 
before  our  sinful  eyes  see  the  deliverance  of  the  Holy  City. 
Let  not  even  pious  gratitude  turn  your  thoughts  aside." 
So  the  monks  growled  helplessly,  for  Sebastian  had  the 
Baron's  ear  now,  and  all  the  people  venerated  him  as  being 
one  who  seldom  touched  fish  or  flesh,  slept  little,  prayed 
long,  and  always  cast  down  his  eyes  when  he  passed  a 
pretty  maid. 

Then  came  another  letter,  from  La  Haye,  in  Mary 
Kurkuas's  neat  Greek  hand. 


170  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Mary  Kurkuas  to  her  dearest  heart,  Richard  Longsword, 
sends  tears  and  many  kisses.  Life  of  my  life,  I  have 
heard  the  news  from  Sicily,  and  my  heart  is  torn.  It  was 
for  my  sake  that  you  earned  the  wrath  of  Iftikhar,  because 
I  said  '  I  love  you  '  to  you,  not  to  him.  Each  morning  and 
sunset  I  kneel  before  my  picture  of  the  Blessed  '  God- 
bearer,'  praying  her  to  have  pity  on  you,  to  make  you 
strong,  to  stanch  your  heart.  From  my  wise  Plato  and 
Plutarch,  I  draw  no  healing ;  but  when  I  look  on  the  face 
of  the  Mother  of  God  I  know  all  is  well,  though  human 
eye  may  not  see.  There  has  come  a  travelling  jongleur 
from  Auvergne,  who  tells  a  wonderful  tale  of  your  deed  at 
Valmont.  In  the  midst  of  my  sorrow  I  yet  rejoice  and 
thank  the  saints,  that  my  own  true  cavalier  was  spared, 
and  was  suffered  to  slay  that  horrible  Raoul.  Yet  I  am 
glad  it  was  all  hid  from  me  till  safely  over.  I  know  you 
have  a  great  work  to  do  in  Auvergne,  and  would  not  call 
you  hence.  Yet  remember  now  that  the  summer  is  just 
sped,  that  I  am  waiting  for  you  at  La  Haye.  Then  when 
you  come,  I  can  touch  your  face,  and  smooth  away  all  the 
pain,  and  we  will  look  no  longer  back  but  forward.  And 
so  with  a  thousand  kisses  more,  farewell." 

This  letter  made  the  gloom  on  Richard  Longsword 's 
brow  settle  more  darkly  than  ever.  She  knew  of  his  sor- 
row, of  his  storming  of  Valmont  —  of  the  death  of  Gil- 
bert, not  a  word !  Here  was  fresh  sorrow ;  to  his  own 
mortal  pain  must  be  added  that  of  giving  anguish  to  one 
dearer  than  self.  Who  was  he,  with  innocent  blood  almost 
reddening  his  hands,  with  blasphemies  nigh  upon  his  lips, 
to  take  in  his  arms  a  beautiful  woman,  pure  as  an  angel  of 
light  ?  Richard  ground  his  teeth  in  his  pain. 

"  Dear  Sebastian,"  cried  he  once,  despairing,  "  can  even 
the  great  pilgrimage  wipe  out  my  sin  ?  Did  not  Foulques 
of  Anjou  go  thrice  to  Jerusalem  before  earning  peace  for 
his  soul? " 

"  My  son,"  was  the  answer,  "  fear  not ;  your  sin  is  great, 
yet  not  as  Foulques's,  for  he  tortured  his  brother  to  death 
in  a  dungeon.  No  other  pilgrimage  —  to  St.  James  of  Com- 


HOW    LADY    IDE    FORGAVE   RICHARD          171 

postella,  to  St.  Martin  of  Tours  —  is  like  to  that  to  Jerusa- 
lem. And  now  you  are  to  go,  not  with  staff  and  scrip,  but 
with  a  good  sword,  and  to  win  great  battles  for  God  and 
His  Christ ! " 

So  for  a  moment  Richard  brightened ;  then,  lapsing  in 
gloom,  he  groaned :  "  Unworthy,  all  unworthy  am  I  so  much 
as  to  look  upon  the  City  of  God  !  Let  me  turn  monk,  and 
seek  peace  in  toil  and  fast  and  vigil." 

But  Sebastian  shook  his  head :  "  Well  I  know  that  too 
often  the  very  seat  of  Satan  is  within  the  cloister  —  spirit- 
ual arrogance,  worldly  lust,  even  in  the  great  abbey  of 
Clugny  itself.  And  did  God  give  you  a  grip  of  steel  and 
an  arm  of  iron  to  let  them  grow  weak  in  some  monkish 
cell  ?  You  have  a  great  work  before  you,  sweet  son.  Fear 
not,  be  patient.  God  will  bring  it  to  pass  !  " 

There  was  a  strength,  a  simple  majesty,  about  Sebastian, 
when  he  spoke,  that  made  all  doubts  for  the  moment  flee 
away.  So  Richard  continued  to  possess  himself  in  such 
peace  as  he  might.  Day  by  day  he  grew  stronger ;  and 
at  last,  just  as  October  began  with  its  cool  evenings  and 
crystal  mornings,  he  was  again  riding  about  upon  Rollo. 
All  the  St.  Julien  vassals  fell  on  their  knees  when  their 
dread  lord  passed  their  hamlets,  and  they  put  up  a  prayer 
of  thanksgiving ;  for  they  said,  "  The  seigneur  is  a  kind 
and  just  man,  with  the  love. of  God  in  his  heart,  despite  his 
fury  at  Valmont." 

But  now  came  messengers  out  of  the  south.  Louis 
de  Valmont  had  raised  a  great  force  ;  all  the  roving  bandits 
of  the  woods  had  gathered  around  him ;  the  war  between 
Aquitaine  and  Toulouse  lagged,  and  many  landless  cavaliers 
had  come  under  his  banner.  When  Herbert  heard  the 
news  he  began  to  talk  of  victualling  St.  Julien  for  a  long 
siege,  and  sending  to  Burgundy  and  Languedoc  for  help. 
But  Richard  would  hear  none  of  it. 

"  The  saints  know  there  has  been  enough  Christian 
blood  spilled,  since  I  came  to  Auvergne.  There  shall  be 
no  more  in  my  quarrel,"  declared  he ;  and  he  sent  back  a 
messenger  to  Louis,  saying  that  he  prayed  him  to  enter  on 
no  new  feud,  but  to  grant  a  meeting  where  they  might 


172  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

compose  their  quarrels  without  arms.  Three  days  sped, 
and  back  came  the  envoy  with  a  letter,  which  three  months 
earlier  would  have  made  Richard  swear  great  oaths  and 
draw  out  Trenchefer.  "  Louis  de  Valmont,"  ran  the 
reply,  "  will  come  to  St.  Julien  and  there  meet  Richard 
Longsword,  and  five  hundred  lances  will  come  with  him. 
As  for  composition,  let  Richard  make  what  terms  he  could 
with  the  saints,  for  on  earth  he  need  beg  for  no  quarter." 

"  By  the  Glory  of  Allah !  "  declared  Musa,  when  the 
letter  was  read,  "  we  will  make  them  cry  '  Hold ! '  before 
many  arrows  fly !  "  And  Herbert  began  to  call  to  arms 
the  vassals  of  the  barony,  and  chuckled  when  he  thought 
of  the  brave  times  ahead.  But  Richard,  when  he  had 
slept  on  the  letter,  called  for  Sebastian,  and  was  with  him 
long  alone.  Then  he  unbuckled  Trenchefer,  put  on  a 
soiled,  brown  bleaunt,  and  bade  them  bring  a  common 
palfrey  for  himself  and  a  mule  for  Sebastian.  He  com- 
manded Herbert  to  keep  strict  guard  of  the  castle,  to  yield 
to  none,  to  attack  none.  Even  to  Musa  he  would  not  tell 
the  object  of  his  journey.  With  the  priest  at  his  side  he 
rode  out  of  the  village,  and  turned  his  face  toward  the 
south,  where  the  road  climbed  over  the  mountains. 

They  journeyed  on  till  the  sun  lacked  a  bare  hour  of 
setting.  Then  before  them,  on  a  smooth  meadow  where 
ran  a  little  river,  they  saw  many  rude  tents,  horses  picketed 
to  lances  thrust  in  the  ground,  the  smoke  of  camp-fires ; 
and  heard  the  hum  of  a  hundred  voices.  Presently  into 
the  road  sprang  half  a  dozen  surly,  hard-visaged  men  with 
tossing  pole-axes  and  spiked  clubs.  They  demanded  of 
knight  and  priest  their  business,  in  no  gentle  tone. 

"Tell  your  master,  Louis  de  Valmont,"  said  Sebastian, 
mildly,  "that  a  cavalier  and  a  servant  of  Holy  Church 
would  speak  with  him." 

"  A  servant  of  Holy  Church,  ho  !  "  cried  one  of  the  men- 
at-arms,  with  a  covetous  glance  at  the  mule  ;  but  Sebastian 
fastened  his  firelike  eyes  upon  the  fellow,  who  dropped 
his  gaze  and  began  to  mutter  something  about  the  evil  eye. 

They  led  the  two  into  the  midst  of  the  camp,  where  a 
great  press  of  disorderly  varlets  and  petty  nobles  swarmed 


'73 

around,  pointing,  laughing,  whispering  loudly.  Only  the 
largest  tent  was  carefully  closed,  and  about  it  stood  sentries 
in  armor.  A  man-at-arms  went  to  this,  thrust  in  his  head, 
and  was  back  with  the  message :  — 

"  Sir  Louis  de  Valmont  and  his  mother,  the  noble  Lady 
Ide,  have  no  time  to  waste  words  with  every  wandering 
knight  and  priest  that  come  this  way.  They  bid  you  state 
your  errand  to  me  and  begone,  or  we  strip  you  of  steeds 
and  purses." 

"  Tell  Louis  de  Valmont,"  said  Richard,  in  a  voice  that 
many  might  hear,  "  that  the  Baron  of  St.  Julien  and  his 
chaplain  desire  speech  with  him,  and  that  speedily ! " 

There  was  half  a  hum,  half  a  growl,  in  the  crowd  about. 
Swords  waved  on  high ;  lances  tossed ;  voices  began  to 
shout,  "  Seize  !  Strike  !  "  Sebastian  swept  round  upon  the 
soldiery  with  his  terrible  gaze,  and  all  recoiled.  Richard 
stood  stern  and  motionless  as  a  rock.  Then  the  flap  of  the 
tent  dashed  aside,  and  forth  strode  a  figure  in  silvered 
casque  and  hauberk. 

"  Sir  Louis  de  Valmont,"  said  Richard,  very  gravely, 
advancing  with  outstretched  hand,  "  I  greet  you  well.  Let 
us  meet  in  peace  in  Christ's  name  !  " 

A  dark  scowl  knotted  the  brow  of  De  Valmont. 

"  By  all  the  fiends,  what  devil  persuaded  you  to  come 
into  my  presence  ?  As  God  lives,  you  shall  die  this  night, 
though  you  kiss  my  feet  and  beg  for  life." 

But  Sebastian  answered  for  Richard. 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  Louis  de  Valmont ;  but  first 
you  shall  look  into  your  own  soul,  and  see  if  you  be  a 
meet  instrument  to  execute  God's  will.  We  cannot  speak 
here.  Let  us  enter  the  tent." 

Louis  stood  obdurate;  but  with  a  single  sweep  of  his 
hand  and  a  second  lightning  glance,  Sebastian  scattered 
the  men-at-arms,  and  he  and  Richard  strode  right  past 
De  Valmont  into  the  tent. 

Dimly  within  they  saw  the  rude  camp  furniture,  bedding 
and  rugs  on  the  ground,  where  were  laid  out  some  silver 
dishes  and  flagons,  and  two  serving-maids  were  making 
ready  a  meal ;  but  as  they  stepped  in,  before  them  rose  a 


174  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

figure,  a  woman  with  gray  hair  and  a  face  ashen  with  a  great 
sorrow,  who  sprang  forth  to  Richard  with  a  bitter  cry. 

"  Away,  away,  wretch,  murderer  !  Hew  him  to  death, 
Louis  !  Ah  !  my  boy  !  my  boy  !  " 

It  was  the  Lady  Ide.  And  at  her  cry  Richard's  face 
also  grew  ashen,  but  he  did  not  quail. 

"  Dear  lady,"  answered  he,  "  I  am  all  you  say.  Yet 
let  me  speak.  Your  son's  men  are  all  around  ;  my  life 
is  in  Louis's  keeping." 

"  Away !  away  !  "  moaned  the  mother,  "and  as  they  kill 
you,  let  my  curse  still  be  in  your  ears  !  Each  night  I  cry 
to  God  to  remember  the  blood  of  Gilbert.  Oh,  may  God's 
wrath  be  heavy  upon  you  !  " 

"  Lady,"  replied  Richard,  turning  even  paler,  "  God's 
wrath  has  indeed  been  heavy  upon  me !  Let  them  seize 
and  torture  me,  I  do  not  fear." 

And  here  Louis  broke  in,  raging :  — 

"  Enough  of  this  !  In  Satan's  name,  will  you  add  to  your 
infamy  by  reviling  my  mother  to  her  face  ?  Ho,  Robert, 
Aimeon,  —  this  way  !  — drag  him  forth  !  " 

But  Sebastian  looked  straight  into  De  Valmont's  eyes. 

"  Peace,  man  of  sin  !  Know  that  if  Richard  Longsword 
be  indeed  so  accursed  as  you  deem  him,  yet  he  is  as  Cain  ; 
for  God  has  set  a  mark  upon  him,  lest  any  finding  him 
should  slay  him  !  " 

And  under  the  priest's  terrible  gaze  the  Provencal's  hand 
left  his  sword-hilt,  and  he  held  down  his  head.  Then  to 
Lady  Ide,  Sebastian  spoke :  — 

"  Daughter,  your  sorrow  is  great.  Nevertheless,  I  warn 
you.  As  you  would  stand  at  the  judgment  seat  on  the 
great  Day,  listen  to  the  words  of  this  knight." 

And  Lady  Ide  also  bowed  her  head.  Then  Richard 
began :  "  Noble  lady,  the  first  cause  of  your  sorrows  lies 
not  in  me.  My  grandfather  and  your  son  Raoul  quar- 
relled ;  on  what  account  I  know  not.  But  as  God  is  my 
just  judge,  the  thing  Raoul  did  to  Baron  Gaston,  when  he 
held  him  prisoner,  cried  to  heaven.  I  slew  Raoul  in  fair 
battle  after  he  had  tortured  my  grandfather,  fettered  in  a 
dungeon." 


HOW   LADY  IDE   FORGAVE   RICHARD          175 

And  at  this  the  mother  burst  forth  :  — 

"  Oh,  holy  St.  Martin,  but  Raoul  was  a  terrible  man ! 
Yes,  I  confess  it,  though  it  was  I  that  bore  him.  Did  I 
not  plead  with  him  not  to  torture  Baron  Gaston,  arid  tell 
him  the  saints  would  requite  tenfold  ? " 

"Amen,  daughter!"  commented  Sebastian,  sternly. 

"  But  Gilbert,  my  youngest,  innocent  as  song-thrush ! 
gentle  as  a  little  girl !  "  the  lady  wailed. 

"And  I  will  speak  of  him  also,"  continued  Richard. 
"  Before  I  came  to  St.  Julien,  I  had  had  quarrel  with  Sir 
Louis.  Yet  we  warred  in  knightly  fashion.  Sir  Louis 
lost  the  day,  but  there  was  no  stain  upon  his  honor.  Still 
there  was  little  love  betwixt  me  and  any  of  the  De  Valmont 
name  when  I  went  to  Auvergne.  Then  I  came  to  St. 
Julien,  and  saw  my  grandfather.  Holy  Cross !  dear  lady  — 
could  you  have  seen  him,  you  would  have  melted  with 
pity  —  all  seared  by  fire,  those  sightless  eyeballs !  " 

"  No  more !  by  every  saint,  no  more !  "  moaned  Lady  Ide. 

"  When  I  saw  him,  and  heard  of  Raoul,  and  heard  that 
he  had  a  younger  brother  Gilbert,  I  swore  a  great  oath 
to  Heaven  that  the  Valmonts  were  a  godless  brood,  and  I 
would  slay  them  all  —  all.  For  in  my  eyes  Gilbert  was 
but  as  his  brother."  Lady  Ide  groaned,  but  Richard  went 
on  :  "  Then  when  I  stormed  Valmont,  I  fought  Raoul  face 
to  face  and  man  to  man,  and  he  perished  as  befits  a  valiant 
cavalier.  Whether  my  own  sins  are  not  now  as  great  as 
his,  let  God  judge ;  but  if  he  died,  he  died  —  I  dare  to  say 
it  —  not  without  cause." 

"  It  is  true  !  Dear  Christ,  it  is  true !  And  I  was  his 
mother."  Lady  Ide  had  her  face  bowed  on  her  hands, 
and  shook  with  her  sobs.  Richard  drove  straight  on  :  — 

"  Then  the  devil  entered  into  me.  I  was  mad  with  lust 
of  slaying  and  the  heat  of  battle.  My  veins  seemed  turned 
to  fire.  I  knew  all  that  I  did,  yet  in  a  strange  way  knew 
not  —  only  beheld  myself  striking,  shouting,  running,  as  if 
I  stood  a  great  way  off.  I  struck  you  down  foully.  I 
slew  Gilbert  at  the  altar,  and  all  the  time  that  I  raged,  I 
felt  deep  within  —  that  what  I  did,  was  a  sin  against  God. 
I  shattered  the  holy  relics ;  I  blasphemed  heaven.  There 


176  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

are  those  who  have  sinned  more  than  I,  but  they  are  not 
many." 

The  lady  was  not  weeping  now.  She  was  staring  at 
Richard  with  hard,  tearless  eyes,  —  all  the  picture  of  that 
fearful  night  standing,  as  in  a  vision,  before  them. 

"  But  I  have  been  punished,  —  punished,  perhaps,  after 
my  sins,  —  yet  scarce  has  God  given  me  grace  to  bear.  I 
had  a  mother  who  held  me  dear  —  dearer,  if  I  may  say  it, 
than  you  held  Gilbert." 

"  It  cannot  be !  "  cried  Ide,  starting  up,  but  Sebastian 
frowned  and  she  was  quiet. 

"  I  had  a  mother,  a  father  who  also  loved  me,  a  brother 
gentle  as  Gilbert,  and  a  sister,"  and  when  Richard  spoke 
the  word  even  Louis  turned  away  his  gaze,  there  was  such 
agony  on  Longsword's  face.  "  And  now  tidings  have  come 
from  Sicily  that  father,  mother,  and  brother  are  dead,  slain 
wantonly  by  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  whom  Louis  knows  well ; 
and  my  sister !  holy  Mother  of  God,  drive  the  thought  from 
my  heart !  is  the  captive  of  that  paynim.  So  think  you 
not  the  sin  I  committed  against  you  and  yours  has  not  met 
its  reward  ?  Think  you  I  shall  greatly  fear,  if  Sir  Louis 
calls  in  his  men  and  bids  them  slay  me  ?  What  is  death 
beside  the  pains  that  I  bear  here !  "  And  Richard  smote 
his  breast.  Then  Louis  burst  forth  :  — 

"  But  why,  by  the  Holy  Cross,  did  you  venture  hither  ? 
You  know  I  have  sworn  to  have  your  life." 

"  Right  well,"  answered  the  Norman,  dropping  his  gaze ; 
"  and  doubtless  you  expected  to  find  me  holding  St.  Julien 
with  all  my  vassals,  and  much  blood  ready  to  be  spilled. 
But  I  again  have  sworn  an  oath,  —  and  the  oath  is  this  : 
'For  my  sins,  and  for  the  souls  of  my  parents  and  brother, 
I  will  go  to  free  the  Holy  City  from  the  unbeliever.  And 
I  will  shed  no  more  Christian  blood  until  I  see  the  Cross 
triumphant  on  the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  or  until  I  die.' 
Therefore  I  stand  before  you,  asking  to  be  forgiven ;  and 
if  you  will  not,  I  do  not  fear  death." 

A  long  silence  ;  then  the  woman  broke  it :  — 

"  My  boy  !  my  boy  !  You  have  killed  him  !  You  must 
suffer ! " 


HOW   LADY  IDE   FORGAVE   RICHARD          177 

"  I  am  willing,  lady,"  said  Richard,  never  stirring. 

But  Sebastian  now  had  his  word  :  — 

"Take  care,  daughter,  lest  you  too  sin  in  the  sight  of 
God  !  What  said  Our  Lord  upon  the  cross  ?  '  Father, 
forgive  them ! '  And  has  not  this  Richard  Longsword 
been  chastened  ?  been  brought  very  low  ?  You  lost  your 
two  sons ;  but  one  of  these,  by  your  own  lips,  is  confessed 
worthy  of  death,  and  for  the  slaying  of  the  other  this  man 
has  been  repaid.  He  slew  one  innocent :  he  has  lost  three 
—  and  one  worse  than  dead.  And  he  is  a  chosen  vessel 
of  the  Lord.  For  God  has  cut  him  short  in  his  sins,  even 
as  He  cut  short  Paul  when  breathing  forth  threatenings 
and  slaughter.  For  I  say  unto  you :  I  had  granted  unto 
me  a  vision,"  —  and  Sebastian's  voice  rose  to  a  swelling 
height,  —  "  no  flitting  dream  of  the  night,  but  clear  as  the 
noonday ;  I  saw  Richard  Longsword  standing  on  the  walls 
of  Jerusalem,  and  above  his  head  the  cross.  And  he  shall 
fight  great  battles  for  Christ,  and  endure  great  tribulation 
more ;  but  shall  see  the  desires  of  God  upon  the  wicked. 
Therefore,  you  and  you,  deal  pitifully  with  him.  For  he 
has  sinned,  but  has  repented,  and  now  is  one  of  God's 
elect." 

And  as  Sebastian  spoke,  lo !  Lady  Ide's  eyes  were 
bright  with  tears,  and  her  frame  shook  with  a  mighty 
sobbing ;  for,  as  she  looked  on  Richard  Longsword's  face, 
she  saw  it  aged  with  an  agony  beyond  any  curse  of  human 
thought. 

"Ah,  dear  God!"  she  cried,  lifting  up  her  hands,  still 
very  soft  and  white,  "  Thou  knowest  it  is  hard,  yet  I  —  I 
forgive  him !  " 

Richard  knelt  and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  robe. 

"  Sweet  lady,"  said  he,  "  you  have  given  water  to  one 
who  seemed  parched  in  nigh  quenchless  fire.  For  when 
such  as  you  may  forgive,  I  may  look  to  heaven,  and  say, 
'  Christ  is  not  less  merciful.'  ' 

Lady  Ide  only  pressed  her  hands  to  her  face.  Richard 
turned  to  Louis.  "  And  am  I  forgiven  by  you  also  ? "  was 
his  prayer.  But  Louis  answered  :  — 

"  My  mother  forgives  you.     That  is  enough.     I  am  not 


178  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

made  like  the  angels,  as  is  she.  I  will  do  you  no  harm. 
Since  I  cannot  take  my  men  to  St.  Julien,  we  will  go  to 
Clermont,  where  the  Pope  will  hold  the  council,  and  brave 
adventures  will  be  set  afoot.  Between  us  there  is  a  truce. 
Let  forgiveness  and  friendship  wait" 

So  Richard  bowed  his  head  and  went  out  of  the  tent. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

HOW   RICHARD    SAW    PETER   THE   HERMIT 

THUS  Richard  returned  to  St.  Julien,  to  the  great  joy 
and  wonderment  of  Musa  and  Herbert,  who  had  never 
expected  to  see  him  again  after  learning  his  quest.  As  the 
days  of  autumn  advanced,  Richard  began  to  make  ready 
for  his  progress  to  Clermont.  For  hither,  report  had  it, 
all  France  was  flocking,  small  and  great.  In  July  Urban 
II,  who,  as  Cardinal  of  Ostia,  had  once  knelt  at  the  bed 
of  the  dying  Gregory,  had  crossed  the  Alps  to  see  once 
more  his  native  land,  —  for  he  was  a  Frenchman,  born 
near  Chatillon-sur-Marne, — and  now  that  he  had  become 
the  Vicar  of  Christ  he  did  not  forget  that  the  best  ser- 
vants of  Our  Lord  prayed  to  Him  in  the  Languedoc  or 
the  Languedoil.  And  so,  leaving  behind  Italy,  with  its 
wrangling  prelates,  its  sordid  city-folk,  its  Antipope,  and 
half-phantom  emperor,  he  returned  to  his  own  people. 
And  lo!  all  France  felt  a  thrill  at  the  pontiff's  coming  — 
for  who  did  not  know  that  wonders  past  thinking  were  at 
hand  !  The  sense  of  sin  hung  heavy  on  each  man's  soul : 
fast,  penance,  alms,  gifts  to  abbeys,  gifts  to  rear  cathedral 
walls,  the  vows  of  the  monks  —  all  these  too  feeble  to  lift 
the  pall  of  guilt!  Richard  was  not  the  only  despairing 
baron  who  cried  after  this  fashion,  —  "Miserable  man  that 
I  am  —  who  shall  save  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  !  " 
Sin  there  was  in  France,  lust,  violence ;  but  also  a  spark  of 
"the  fire  not  of  this  world."  Let  the  breath  of  the  spirit 
blow ;  let  the  prophet's  voice  cry  to  the  four  winds;  and  the 
spark  would  spring  to  a  flame,  the  flame  to  a  roaring,  the 
roaring  would  echo  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  The  sky  was 
bright  over  beloved  France ;  day  by  day  new  castles  were 

179 


i8o  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

rising,  cities  also,  and  cathedrals  mounting  up  to  heaven. 
All  without  grew  more  joyous  every  day ;  but  men,  look- 
ing within,  saw  their  sins  beyond  reckoning.  With  France 
so  fair,  and  "  heaven  so  like  thee,  dear  France,"  who  would 
not  give  all  to  possess  so  lovely  a  country  forever !  —  yet 
their  sins  —  they  were  so  many  ! 

Urban  had  crossed  the  Alps  in  July ;  in  August  he  was 
at  Nimes;  in  September  he  crossed  the  Rhone,  thence  to 
Clugny,  "  Queen  of  Abbeys,"  where  he  had  been  a  humble 
monk  years  before.  As  November  advanced,  he  set  his  face 
toward  Clermont,  in  Auvergne ;  and  when  St.  Julien's  folk 
made  preparation  to  journey  thither,  Sebastian  could  scarce 
restrain  his  own  impatience.  All  day  he  roamed  about,  his 
eyes  bright  but  vacant.  Richard  did  not  share  his  joy; 
for  he  thought  not  of  the  pilgrimage  only,  but  of  Musa, 
and  his  mind  grew  darker.  How  he  loved  the  Arab  !  And 
yet  was  not  this  bond  betwixt  Christian  and  Moslem  a  sin 
not  lightly  to  be  punished  ? 

"  Ai,  my  brother! "  Richard  would  cry  in  despair ,  "  turn 
Christian  ;  go  with  me  to  Jerusalem  ;  when  we  return,  take 
half  of  the  St.  Julien  lands !  "  Whereupon  Musa  laughed 
in  his  melancholy  way,  replying  :  — 

"  And  why  may  not  I  bid  you  become  Moslem  and  speed 
to  Egypt?"' 

"  Well  that  my  faith  is  strong  !  "  returned  the  Norman, 
bitterly.  "  But  we  must  part  —  must  part !  Yet  God  has 
made  you  flesh  of  my  flesh.  We  see  love  in  each  other's 
eyes.  We  hear  each  other's  voices,  and  hear  joy !  Were 
we  both  of  one  faith,  where  we  two  were,  there  would  be 
heaven !  Yet,  O  Musa,  we  are  sundered  by  a  gulf  wider 
than  the  sea!  " 

The  friends  had  been  pacing  along  the  clearing  without 
the  castle ;  and  now  Musa  thrust  his  arm  around  the 
shoulder  of  the  mighty  Norman,  and  the  two  strode  on 
a  long  time  silent.  Then  Richard  continued :  — 

"Tell  me,  Musa,  if  you  go  to  Egypt,  and  we  Franks  to 
Jerusalem,  and  it  befalls  that  you  have  chance  to  fight  in 
defence  of  the  Holy  City,  will  you  embrace  it  ?  You  are 
not  a  strait  Moslem." 


HOW   RICHARD   SAW   PETER   THE   HERMIT     181 

The  Spaniard  answered  very  slowly,  his  eyes  on  the 
ground :  — 

"  What  is  written  in  the  book  of  our  dooms,  that  may  no 
kalif  shun.  Says  Al-Koran,  'The  fate  of  every  man, 
we  have  bound  about  his  neck.'  And  again  it  says,  '  No 
soul  can  die  unless  by  the  will  of  Allah,  according  to  that 
which  is  written  in  the  book  containing  the  destinies  of  all 
things.'  Therefore  why  ask  me  ?  The  Most  High  knows 
what  will  befall,  whether  you  Christians  will  have  your 
will,  and  see  your  cross  above  the  Holy  City,  or  whether 
you  will  all  be  lying  with  the  dead."  . 

"  Amen  !  "  answered  Richard,  solemnly.  "  Only  to  the 
Christian  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  will  of  God,  un- 
less, by  the  unworthiness  of  our  sinful  hearts,  we  are  denied 
the  boon  of  setting  free  the  tomb  of  Our  Lord.  But,  my 
kind  brother,  it  is  not  of  this  that  I  would  speak.  I  dread  this 
parting  from  you.  Think !  here  stand  I,  with  many  vassals 
to  fear  me,  a  few,  like  Herbert,  to  worship  me;  but  — " 
and  the  strong  voice  was  broken  —  "  on  all  the  wide  earth 
there  are  but  three  that  love  me,  —  Sebastian,  Mary  Kur- 
kuas,  and  you.  And  how  may  I  lift  eyes  to  Mary  now  ? 
And  you  —  you  are  to  be  taken  away." 

Musa  only  looked  on  the  grass  at  his  feet.  Then  he 
said  sweetly :  — 

"  Ah,  my  brother,  though  now  we  part,  I  do  not  think 
our  friendship  will  have  brought  bitterness  only.  So  long  as 
we  live  we  shall  think  each  of  the  other  as  the  half  of  one's 
own  soul  that  has  traversed  away,  but  will  in  some  bright 
future  return.  And  who  knows  that  your  churchmen,  and 
even  our  prophet  (on  whom  be  peace),  are  wrong  alike  ? 
That  every  man  and  maid  who  has  walked  humbly  in  the 
sight  of  the  Most  High,  and  striven  to  do  His  will,  will  not 
be  denied  the  joy  hereafter?  Do  you  think  Allah  is  less 
compassionate  than  we,  who  have  dwelt  together  these 
many  days,  and  to  whom  our  faith  has  been  no  barrier  to 
pure  love  ? " 

Richard  shook  his  head. 

"  God  knows,"  said  he,  half  pitetfusly ;  "  Sebastian  says  to 
me  each  day  :  '  The  Spaniard  is  of  the  devil.  Take  heed  ! 


1 82  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

He  stands  on  the  brink  of  the  lake  of  quenchless  fire  ;  send 
him  away,  if  you  are  truly  devoted  to  the  service  of  Our 
Lord.'" 

"  And  he  is  right,"  answered  Musa,  bending  down  and 
plucking  a  late  floweret ;  "  our  paths  lie  far  asunder.  You 
will  go  to  Jerusalem,  and  if  you  fare  prosperously,  you  will 
return  with  the  great  load  lifted  from  your  soul,  and  rule 
here  as  a  mighty  baron  with  Mary  Kurkuas  at  your  side. 
And  I  —  doubtless  I  shall  gain  favor  at  Cairo.  They  will 
give  me  work  to  do.  I  shall  become  a  great  emir,  —  vizier 
perhaps — no  —  I  will  better  that;  what  may  not  a  good 
sword  hope  -with  favoring  start  ?  May  I  not  be  hailed 
in  twenty  years  '  Commander  of  the  Faithful '  ? " 

And  Richard,  catching  the  lighter  mood,  answered : 
"  And  will  you  go  forever  mateless  ?  At  Palermo  how 
many  bright  eyes  smiled  on  you  !  As  kalif  the  fifty  houris 
of  your  harem  will  chase  from  mind  the  memory  of  Richard 
the  Frank."  Musa  tore  in  pieces  the  floweret,  and  blew 
away  the  petals. 

"  A  harem  ?  Allah  f orefend  !  My  father  had  three 
wives,  and  was  the  slave  of  each  at  once.  Never  wittingly 
will  I  yield  myself  to  love,  save  of  one  who  shall  be  the 
fairest  of  the  daughters  of  Allah  and  gifted  with  His  own 
wisdom ! " 

"  You  speak  of  Mary  Kurkuas !  "  cried  the  Norman, 
starting. 

"  Wallah,  to  every  lover  his  mistress  is  the  only  fair  one !  " 

So  Musa  made  merry.  A  few  days  afterward  he  rode 
away  with  the  Saracens  to  La  Haye,  to  tell  Mary  that  for 
the  sin  of  her  betrothed,  Richard  dared  not  hail  her 
his  bride.  A  sorry  story !  but  only  Musa  could  make  the 
best  of  it.  Nasr  and  his  Saracens  were  to  be  shipped  back 
to  Sicily.  As  for  Longs  word,  he  set  forth  with  a  few  men- 
at-arms  westward  for  Clermont. 

As  they  travelled,  more  and  more  people  met  them,  and 
all  were  going  the  selfsame  way.  At  Chanterelle  the  lord 
of  the  castle  had  to  send  to  Richard  begging  pardon,  but 
there  were  already  so  many  cavaliers  with  their  retainers 
halting  with  him  for  the  night,  that  he  could  offer  no 


HOW   RICHARD  SAW  PETER  THE   HERMIT     183 

hospitality.  At  Valbelaix,  lo !  a  great  crowd  of  peasants, 
men  with  long  hair  and  shaggy  beards,  foot-sore  women 
and  little  children,  were  on  the  road ;  and  when  Richard 
asked  them  how  they  durst  leave  their  seigneur's  lands 
and  brave  his  wrath,  an  old  man  fell  on  his  knees  and 
answered :  — 

"Ah,  gentle  knight,  our  seigneur  may  be  angry,  but 
God  is  still  more  angry.  For  we  have  all  many  sins,  and 
they  say  that  at  Clermont  the  Holy  Father  will  tell  us  how 
we  may  be  loosed  from  them." 

Then  Richard  bowed  his  head  very  humbly  and  bade 
Herbert  cast  a  whole  bag  of  silver  obols  amongst  the  good 
people,  and  was  very  glad  when  the  children  cried  out  in 
their  sweet,  clear  voices :  "  God  bless  you,  good  lord,"  and 
"Our  Lady  remember  your  kindness." 

As  the  company  rode  toward  Courgoul,  they  came  on 
another  knight  with  his  train.  The  cavalier  was  a  thick- 
pated,  one-eyed  old  warrior,  who  had  a  life  of  hard  fighting 
and  foul  living  written  all  over  his  face.  But  when  Richard 
inquired  whither  he  journeyed,  the  old  sinner  made 
reply :  — 

"  To  Clermont,  brave  sir." 

"  And  why  to  Clermont  ?  " 

"Ah!  you  have  two  eyes.  You  can  see;  my  sins  are 
more  than  the  leaves  on  the  trees.  I  could  never  remem- 
ber them  all  at  confession.  But  even  I,"  and  he  crossed 
himself,  "am  a  Christian;  and  if  by  riding  a  few  jousts 
with  the  infidels  the  saints  will  think  more  kindly  of  me, 
St.  Anastaise,  it  would  be  no  irksome  penance ! " 

So  they  travelled,  and  Richard  began  to  see  that  he  was 
not  the  only  one  who  felt  the  hand  of  God  very  heavy 
upon  him.  When  the  troop  came  to  Courgoul,  a  great 
band  of  country  folk,  farmers,  petty  nobles,  and  two  or 
three  greater  lords  were  overtaken,  all  hurrying  and 
shouting,  so  that  for  a  long  time  Longsword  could  learn 
nothing  from  them.  Then,  at  last,  men  began  to  cry, 
"  He  is  here !  he  is  here !  "  just  as  they  turned  in  before 
the  little  village  church. 

"  Who  is  this  '  he '  ?  "    pressed    Richard.     And   twenty 


184  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

tongues  tossed  back :  "  Are  you  a  stranger  ?  Peter  of 
Amiens  !  Peter  the  Hermit,  the  apostle  of  God !  " 

So  the  whole  band  swarmed  to  the  church  door,  but 
could  not  enter,  for  within  there  was  no  room  to  stand. 
And  an  old  priest  came  forth,  and  scarce  obtained 
silence :  — 

"  Back,  back,  good  Christians,  the  saintly  Peter  will 
come  and  speak  to  you  under  the  great  tree." 

Then  all  surged  again  to  a  wide-spreading  oak  before  the 
church,  and  the  building  emptied  like  bees  pouring  from  a 
hive ;  but  last  of  all,  with  a  sacristan  guarding  at  either 
side  to  keep  off  the  people,  came  a  little  man,  almost  a 
dwarf  in  stature.  He  had  his  eyes  on  the  ground ;  his 
carriage  was  ungainly ;  head  and  feet  were  bare.  His 
hair  was  unshorn,  his  brown  beard  fell  upon  his  breast. 
One  could  see  that  his  cheeks  were  wan  with  fasting.  He 
wore  a  gray  hermit's  cloak,  and  beneath  that  a  rude,  dirty 
cassock,  girt  With  a  cord.  And  this  was  the  man  who  was 
setting  France  aflame,  and  doing  that  which  King  Philip 
or  his  greatest  vassal  could  not  with  all  their  lieges ! 
"  Your  blessing,  father,  your  blessing ! "  voices  began  to 
cry.  And  now  a  woman,  who  had  tried  to  kiss  his  cloak's 
hem,  but  had  been  thrust  back  by  a  sacristan,  fell  on  her 
knees,  and  was  kissing  the  sod  where  the  hermit's  foot  had 
pressed.  More  voices  :  "  Your  blessing,  father !  Our  sins 
are  great !  Pray  to  God  for  us  —  He  will  hear  you  !  "  And 
the  baron  whom  Richard  had  met  was  on  his  knees  before 
the  anchorite,  bowing  his  wicked  old  head,  and  moaning 
and  sobbing  and  gasping  out  all  sorts  of  petitions.  Peter 
had  reached  the  foot  of  the  great  tree.  It  stood  on  a  slight 
rising,  and  the  crowd  all  gave  back  a  little.  Peter  fell  on 
his  knees,  beat  his  breast,  and  prayed  silently.  And  with 
him  all  knelt  a  long  while,  each  repeating  his  mea  culpa. 
Then  the  hermit  rose.  At  the  flash  of  his  eyes,  bright  as 
carbuncles,  a  fire  seemed  to  burn  to  each  hearer's  deepest 
soul. 

"  Listen,  Christians  of  Auvergne  !  "  One  could  hear 
a  leaf  rustle,  it  was  so  still.  "You  say  your  sins  are 
many?"  "Yes,  yes!  "  came  from  a  thousand  voices,  all 


HOW  RICHARD   SAW  PETER  THE   HERMIT     185 

moaning  at  once.  A  slight  gesture ;  they  were  silent. 
"And  you  say  well.  God  is  very  angry  with  you.  He 
sent  His  dear  son,  Our  Lord,  to  this  world  more  than  a 
thousand  years  ago.  How  wicked  it  still  is  !  Who  of  you 
is  guiltless  ?  Let  such  go  hence.  I  have  no  word  for 
him.  But  you,"  with  a  lightning  gaze  about,  "  have 
given  way  to  lustful  passion  ;  and  you  —  have  blasphemed 
the  name  of  God  ;  and  you  —  have  shed  innocent  blood.  It 
is  so.  I  see  it  in  all  your  eyes."  And  now  a  terrible  com- 
motion was  shaking  the  crowd.  Strong  men  were  crying 
out  in  agony ;  women  wailed';  there  were  tears  on  the 
most  iron  cheek.  Peter  went  on  :  "I  am  not  the  Holy 
Father.  Come  to  Clermont,  if  you  wish  to  learn  how  to  be 
loosed  from  your  sins.  But  hear  my  tale  and  consider  if 
the  acceptable  day  of  the  Lord  be  not  at  hand,  —  the  day 
when  your  sins  which  are  as  scarlet  shall  be  washed  white 
as  wool.  Know,  good  people,  that  not  long  since  I  was  in 
Palestine,  in  the  dear  home  land  of  our  Blessed  Lord. 
Ah,  it  would  tear  your  hearts  too  much,  were  I  to  tell  you 
all  that  I  there  saw  :  how  the  unbelievers  pollute  churches 
and  holy  altars  with  vile  orgies;  how  the  blood  of  the 
oppressed  Christians  has  run  in  the  streets  of  Jerusalem, 
like  brooks  in  the  springtime;  how  even  the  Rock  of 
Calvary  and  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  have  been 
denied  —  by  deeds  which  the  tongue  may  not  utter !  "  A 
pause.  The  crowd  was  swaying  in  emotion  beyond  control. 
Peter  held  on  high  a  large  crucifix,  and  pointed  to  the 
Christ  thereon :  "  Look  at  the  body  of  Our  Lord.  His 
wounds  bleed  afresh ;  they  bleed  for  His  children  who 
have  forgotten  Him,  and  turned  away  to  paths  of  wicked- 
ness, and  left  His  sacred  city  to  unbelievers.  O  genera- 
tion of  vipers,  who  shall  save  you  from  eternal  wrath  ? " 
The  cord  was  strained  nigh  to  breaking.  The  people  were 
moaning  and  tossing  their  arms.  A  great  outburst  seemed 
impending.  "  Come  to  Clermont.  For  I  say  unto  you  that 
God  has  not  turned  away  His  face  utterly.  There  the  Holy 
Father  will  tell  you  what  you  shall  do  to  be  saved.  Thus 
long  has  God  seen  your  wickedness  and  been  angry  with 
you.  But  He  has  not  kept  His  anger  forever.  Be  sober 


i86  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

and  of  good  courage,  for  a  great  day  is  at  hand.  When  I 
was  in  Jerusalem,  I  communed  with  the  saintly  Simeon, 
the  patriarch,  and  wept  bitterly  over  the  griefs  of  the 
Christians  there  and  the  arrogancy  of  the  unbelievers. 
And  I  declare  to  you  that  when  I  knelt  one  day  at  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  I  heard  a  voice  :  '  Peter  of  Amiens,  arise  ! 
Hasten  to  proclaim  the  tribulations  of  My  people ;  the 
time  cometh  for  My  servants  to  receive  help  and  My  holy 
tomb  to  be  delivered ! '  And  I  knew  it  was  Our  Lord 
Himself  that  spoke.  Therefore  I  rested  not  day  nor  night 
until  I  had  bidden  the  Christians  of  the  West  put  forth 
their  might  in  God's  most  holy  war !  " 

For  a  moment  stillness ;  then  Peter  broke  forth  again  : 
"  Awake,  awake,  put  on  strength,  O  arm  of  the  Lord ! 
Awake  as  in  the  ancient  time,  in  the  generations  of 
old !  Then  shall  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  return,  and 
come  singing  into  Zion ;  and  they  shall  obtain  gladness 
and  joy,  and  sorrow  and  mourning  shall  flee  away  !  " 

Then  there  was  a  strange  thing.  The  people  did  not 
cry  out,  the  moaning  was  hushed,  all  kept  motionless ; 
and  the  hermit  stood  holding  up  the  crucifix,  with  his  hand 
outstretched  in  benediction  !  — 

"  To  Clermont !  "  was  his  command  ;  "  to  Clermont,  men 
of  Auvergne  !  There  you  shall  have  rest  for  your  souls  ! " 

He  went  down  from  the  little  rising,  and  the  people 
again  began  to  flock  about  him.  But  he  called  for  his 
mule,  and  when  he  mounted  it,  made  away,  though  the 
crowd  pressed  close,  and  found  holy  relics  in  the  beast's  very 
hairs.  Richard  had  been  stirred  as  never  before  in  his 
whole  life.  Was  it  true  that  all  the  world  was  guilty  and 
sinful  even  as  he  ?  He  felt  himself  caught  in  a  mighty 
eddy,  bearing  he  knew  not  whither ;  he,  one  wavelet  amid 
the  sea's  myriads.  Yes,  to  Clermont  he  would  go,  —  Musa, 
Mary  Kurkuas,  honor,  life, — he  would  give  them  all  if 
need  be,  only  to  have  his  part  in  the  war  ordained  by  God. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

HOW    RICHARD    MET    GODFREY    OF    BOUILLON 

UNDER  the  dead  craters  of  the  Monts  D6me  in  the 
teeming  Limagne  basin  lay  Clermont,  a  sombre,  lava- 
built  town,  with  muddy  lanes  ;  and  all  around,  the  bright, 
cold,  autumn-touched  country.  Far  beyond  the  walls 
stretched  a  new  city,  —  tents  spread  over  the  meadows 
even ;  for  no  hospitable  burghers  could  house  the  hun- 
dreds of  prelates  and  abbots  come  to  the  council;  much 
less  the  host  of  lay  nobles  and  "villains."  Daily  into  the 
Cathedral  went  the  great  bishops  in  blazing  copes,  and 
the  lordly  abbots  beneath  gold-fringed  mitres,  to  the  Coun- 
cil where  presided  the  Holy  Father,  —  where  the  truce  of 
God  was  being  proclaimed  between  all  Christians  from 
each  Wednesday  set-of-sun  till  Monday  cockcrow,  and 
where  Philip  of  France  and  his  paramour  Queen  Bertrade 
were  laid  under  the  great  anathema.  But  no  man  gave 
these  decrees  much  heed ;  for  when  Richard  Longsword 
rode  into  Clermont  on  a  November  day,  and  pitched  his 
tents  far  out  upon  the  meadows,  —  all  near  space  being 
taken,  —  he  wondered  at  the  flash  in  every  eye  at  that  one 
magic  word,  "  Jerusalem ! "  All  had  heard  Peter ;  all 
burned  for  the  miseries  of  the  City  of  Our  Lord ;  knew 
that  their  own  sins  were  very  great.  From  Pe"rignat  to 
Clermont,  Richard  accompanied  a  great  multitude,  growing 
as  it  went.  After  he  had  encamped,  the  roads  were  still 
black  with  those  coming  from  the  north,  from  Berri; 
from  the  west,  from  Aquitaine ;  from  the  east,  from  Forez. 
One  could  hear  the  chatter  of  the  Languedoil,  of  the  He 
de  France,  and  of  Champagne  —  all  France  was  coming 
to  Clermont ! 

187 


1 88  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Beside  Richard  encamped  an  embassy  from  the  Count 
Raymond  of  Toulouse,  headed  by  a  certain  Raymond  of 
Agiles,  a  fat,  consequential,  good-natured  priest,  his  lord's 
chaplain  ;  a  very  hard  drinker  who  soon  struck  hands  with 
Longsword,  —  much  to  the  scandal  of  Sebastian,  who  did 
not  love  tales  of  lasses  and  wine-cups.  With  him  was  a 
half-witted  clerk,  one  Peter  Barthelmy,  of  whom  more 
hereafter.  But  Richard  cared  little  for  their  jests.  Could 
even  the  Holy  Father  give  rest  to  his  soul?  Could  a 
journey  to  Jerusalem  write  again  his  name  in  the  Book  of 
Life  ? 

Richard  went  to  the  church  of  Our  Lady  of  the  Gate. 
Kneeling  by  the  transept  portal,  with  strangely  carved 
cherubim  above  him,  he  looked  into  the  long  nave,  where 
only  dimly  he  could  see  the  massy  piers  and  arches  for 
the  blaze  of  light  from  two  high  windows  bright  with 
pictured  saints.  As  he  entered,  a  great  hush  and  peace 
seemed  to  come  over  him.  He  turned  toward  the  high 
altar ;  the  gleaming  window  above  seemed  a  doorway  into 
heaven.  He  knelt  at  a  little  shrine  by  the  aisle.  He 
would  pray.  Lo,  of  a  sudden  the  choir  broke  forth  from 
the  lower  gloom  :  — 

"  That  great  Day  of  wrath  and  terror  ! 
That  last  Day  of  woe  and  doom, 
Like  a  thief  that  comes  at  midnight 
On  the  sons  of  men  shall  come  ; 
When  the  pride  and  pomp  of  ages 
All  shall  utterly  have  passed, 
And  they  stand  in  anguish  owning 
That  the  end  is  here  at  last ! " 

Richard  heard,  and  his  heart  grew  chill.  Still  the  clear 
voices  sang  on,  till  the  words  smote  him :  — 

"Then  to  those  upon  the  left  hand 
That  most  righteous  Judge  shall  say : 
'  Go,  you  cursed,  to  Gehenna 
And  the  fire  that  is  for  aye.' " 

Richard  bowed  his  head  and  rocked  with  grief.  But 
when  he  looked  again  up  toward  the  storied  windows  and 
saw  the  Virgin  standing  bathed  in  light,  her  eyes  seemed 


HOW  RICHARD  MET  GODFREY  OF  BOUILLON     189 

soft  and  pitiful.     Still  he  listened  as  the  music  swelled 
on :  — 

"  But  the  righteous,  upward  soaring, 

To  the  heavenly  land  shall  go 

'Midst  the  cohorts  of  the  angels 

Where  is  joy  forevermo1 : 

To  Jerusalem,  exulting, 

They  with  shouts  shall  enter  in  : 

That  true  '  sight  of  peace '  and  glory 

That  sets  free  from  grief  and  sin, 

Christ,  they  shall  behold  forever, 

Seated  at  the  Father's  hand 

As  in  Beatific  Vision 

His  elect  before  Him  stand." 

Richard  sprang  to  his  feet  "At/"  were  his  words, 
half  aloud;  "if  hewing  my  way  to  the  earthly  Jerusalem 
I  may  gain  sight  of  the  heavenly,  what  joy  !  what  joy  !  " 

A  hand  touched  him  gently  on  the  shoulder.  He 
looked  about,  half  expecting  to  see  a  priest ;  his  eye  lit  on 
a  cavalier,  soberly  dressed,  with  his  hood  pulled  over  his 
head.  In  the  gloom  of  the  church  Richard  could  only 
see  that  he  was  a  man  of  powerful  frame  and  wore  a  long 
blond  beard. 

"  Fair  knight,"  said  the  stranger,  in  the  Languedoil,  in 
a  voice  low,  but  ringing  and  penetrating,  "you  seem 
mightily  moved  by  the  singing;  do  you  also  wish  to  win 
the  fairer  Holy  City  by  seeking  that  below  ?  I  heard  your 
words."  There  was  something  in  the  tone  and  touch  that 
won  confidence  without  asking.  And  Richard  answered :  — 

"  Gallant  sir,  if  God  is  willing  that  I  should  be  forgiven 
by  going  ten  score  times  to  Jerusalem,  and  braving  twelve 
myriad  paynims,  I  would  gladly  venture." 

The  strange  knight  smote  his  breast  and  cast  down  his 
eyes.  "  We  are  all  offenders  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  I 
not  the  least.  Ah  !  sweet  friend,  I  know  not  how  you 
have  sinned.  At  least,  I  trust  you  have  not  done  as  I, 
borne  arms  against  Holy  Church.  What  grosser  guilt 
than  that  ? " 

The  two  knelt  side  by  side  at  the  little  shrine  for  a  long 
time,  saying  nothing;  then  both  left  the  church,  and  to- 


190  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

gather  threaded  the  dirty  lanes  of  the  town,  going  south- 
ward to  the  meadows  where  was  Richard's  encampment. 
As  they  stepped  into  the  bright  light  of  day,  Longsword 
saw  that  the  stranger  was  an  exceeding  handsome  man, 
with  flashing  gray  eyes,  long  fair  hair,  and,  though  his 
limbs  were  slender  and  delicate,  his  muscles  and  frame 
seemed  knit  from  iron.  When  they  passed  the  city  gate, 
Richard  asked  the  other  to  come  to  his  tent.  "You  are 
my  elder,  my  lord;  do  not  think  my  request  presumption." 

"  And  why  do  you  say  '  my  lord '  ? "  asked  the  stranger, 
smiling. 

"  Can  I  not  see  that  your  bleaunt,  though  sombre,  is  of 
costliest  cendal  silk  ?  that  your  '  pelisson  '  is  lined  with  rare 
marten  ?  that  the  chain  at  your  neck  is  too  heavy  for  any 
mean  cavalier  ?  And  —  I  cry  pardon  —  I  see  that  in  your 
eye  which  makes  me  say,  '  Here  is  a  mighty  lord ! ' ' 

The  knight  laughed  again,  and  stroked  his  beard 
thoughtfully. 

"  Good  sir,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  I  see  you  are  a  '  sage ' 
man.  You  desire  to  go  to  Jerusalem  ? " 

"  Yes,  by  Our  Lady  !  " 

"  So  do  I ;  and  I  have  come  no  small  journey  to  hear 
the  Holy  Father.  Let  us  seal  friendship.  Your  name  ?  " 

"  Richard  Longsword,  Baron  of  St.  Julien,"  answered 
the  Norman,  promptly,  thrusting  out  his  hand. 

"  And  mine,"  replied  the  other,  looking  fairly  into  Long- 
sword's  face,  with  a  half-curious  expression,  "  is  Godfrey 
of  Bouillon." 

But  Richard  had  dropped  the  proffered  hand,  and  bowed 
very  low.  "  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  ?  Godfrey  of  Lorraine  ? 
O  my  Lord  Duke,  what  folly  is  mine  in  thrusting  myself 
upon  you  —  "  But  Godfrey  cut  him  short. 

"  Fair  sir,  do  not  be  dismayed ;  your  surmise  is  true  ! 
God  willing,  we  shall  ride  side  by  side  in  more  than  one 
brave  battle  for  the  Cross ;  and  I  count  every  Christian 
cavalier  who  will  fight  with  the  love  of  Our  Lord  in  his 
heart  to  be  my  good  comrade  and  brother." 

"  O  my  lord,"  began  Richard  again  ;  and  again  the 
elder  man  stayed  him  with,  "  And  why  not  ?  Will  God 


HOW  RICHARD  MET  GODFREY  OF  BOUILLON     191 

give  a  higher  place  in  heaven  to  the  sinful  duke  than  to 
the  righteous  peasant  ?  Are  we  not  told  '  he  that  exalteth 
himself  shall  be  abased  '  ?  And  why  have  I,  man  of  sin 
from  my  birth,  cause  to  walk  proudly  ? " 

The  last  words  came  so  naturally  that  Richard  could 
only  cry  out  in  despair:  "At,  Lord  Duke,  and  if  that  be 
so,  and  you,  who  all  men  say  are  more  monk  than  cava- 
lier, are  so  evil,  what  hope  then  for  such  as  I,  who  have 
sinned  nigh  past  forgiveness  ? " 

"  And  what  was  your  sin,  fair  knight  ? " 

"  I  slew  an  innocent  boy  with  his  hands  upon  the  altar." 

Godfrey  crossed  himself,  but  answered  very  mildly : 
"  You  have  greatly  offended,  yet  not  as  I.  For  when  you 
slew  only  a  mortal  boy,  I  crucified  My  Lord  afresh  by 
bearing  arms  against  His  Holy  Church.  Eleven  years  since 
with  the  Emperor  Henry,  in  an  evil  hour,  I  aided  him  to 
take  Rome  from  the  saintly  Pope  Gregory.  For  this  God 
let  me  be  stricken  by  a  great  sickness.  I  was  at  death's 
door.  Then  His  mercy  spared  me.  And  when  I  recov- 
ered, I  swore  that  I  would  ride  forth  to  the  deliverance  of 
the  Holy  City ;  in  the  meantime,  under  my  silken  robe  I 
wear  this,"  and  he  showed  a  coarse  haircloth  shirt,  "as  a 
remembrance  of  my  sin  and  of  my  vow." 

"  But  you  are  without  state  ? "  asked  Richard,  wondering ; 
"no  vassals  —  no  great  company?" 

Godfrey  smiled.  "What  are  the  pomps  of  this  world?" 
said  he,  crossing  himself  again ;  "  yet  in  the  eyes  of  men  I 
must  maintain  them;  such  is  the  bondage  of  the  ruler. 
Just  now  my  affairs  are  such  in  Lorraine  and  Brabant 
that  were  it  to  be  noised  abroad  that  the  Duke  were 
gone  to  Clermont,  there  would  be  no  small  stir,  and  then, 
perhaps,  many  would  conspire  to  resist  me.  But  now  they 
think  me  hunting,  to  return  any  day,  and  they  dare  not  move 
in  their  plots.  Yet  my  heart  has  burned  to  see  the  Lord 
Pope,  and  hear  the  word  that  he  must  speak.  Therefore  I 
have  come  hither,  in  the  guise  of  a  simple  knight,  riding 
with  all  my  speed,  and  only  one  faithful  lord  with  me,  who 
passes  for  my  man-at-arms.  And  I  must  get  the  blessing 
and  mandate  of  the  Holy  Father,  and  be  back  to  Maestricht 


i92  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

ere  too  many  tongues  begin  wagging  over  my  stay."  And 
then  with  a  flash  of  his  keen  eyes  he  turned  on  Richard : 
"And  you,  my  Lord  de  St.  Julien,  —  are  you  not  the  son 
of  that  great  Baron,  William  the  Norman,  who  rode  the 
length  of  Palermo  in  the  face  of  all  the  Moslems  during 
the  siege,  and  were  you  not  also  victor  in  the  famous 
tourney  held  last  year  by  Count  Roger  ? " 

"  I  am,  my  Lord  Duke;  yet  how  could  you  know  me  ? " 

Godfrey  laughed  lightly.  "  I  make  no  boast,  fair  sir," 
he  answered,  "  but  there  are  very  few  cavaliers  in  all  Chris- 
tendom of  whom  I  do  not  know  something.  For  this  war 
for  the  Cross  is  no  new  thing  in  my  heart ;  and  I  strive  to 
learn  all  I  may  of  each  good  knight  who  may  ride  at  my 
side,  when  we  battle  with  the  paynim  ;  and  I  rejoice  that 
your  dwelling  in  half-Moslem  Sicily  has  not  made  your 
hate  for  the  unbeliever  less  strong." 

"Ah  !  "  cried  Richard,  "  only  lately  have  I  resolved  to  go 
to  Jerusalem  ;  I  have  fought  against  it  long.  To  go  I  must 
put  by  the  wedding  of  the  fairest,  purest  woman  in  all  the 
world,  —  perhaps  forever.  Yet  my  sin  is  great;  and  the 
blood  of  my  parents  and  brother,  slain  by  the  infidels,  will 
not  let  me  rest.  But  it  is  very  hard." 

"  Therefore,"  said  Godfrey,  solemnly,  with  the  fervor  of 
an  enthusiast  kindling  his  eyes,  "  in  the  sight  of  God,  your 
deed  will  have  the  more  merit.  Be  brave,  sweet  brother. 
Put  by  every  worldly  desire  and  lust.  I  also  have  sworn  to 
live  as  brother  to  mine  own  dear  wife,  till  the  paynims  defile 
the  city  of  the  Lord  no  more.  Our  Lady  grant  us  both  the 
purer,  uncarnal  love,  the  glory  passing  thought,  the  seats 
at  God's  right  hand !  "  And  the  great  Duke  strode  on,  his 
head  bowed  in  deep  revery,  while  Richard  drew  new 
strength  and  peace  from  his  mere  presence.  Richard 
brought  Godfrey  to  his  own  tent,  letting  De  Carnac  and  the 
others  know  little  of  the  story  of  his  guest ;  and  with  the 
Duke  came  Count  Renard  of  Toul,  his  comrade,  a  splendid 
and  handsome  cavalier,  who  seemed  singularly  ill-matched 
with  his  man-at-arms  jerkin  and  plain  steel  cap.  Long- 
sword  called  Theroulde,  and  \^Q  jongleur  was  at  his  best  that 
night  as  he  sang  the  direful  battle  of  Roncesvalles,  the  valor 


HOW  RICHARD  MET  GODFREY  OF  BOUILLON     193 

of  Roland  and  Oliver,  and  the  gallant  Bishop  Turpin  ;  and 
of  Ganelon  and  his  foul  treason,  King  Marsillius  and  his 
impious  attack  on  the  armies  of  Christ ;  the  death  of  the 
dreadful  paynim  Valdobrun,  profaner  of  Jerusalem,  and  a 
hundred  heroes  more.  As  the  tale  ran  on,  it  was  a  thing  to 
see  how  the  Duke  swelled  with  holy  rage  against  the  infidel. 
As  Theroulde  sang,  sitting  by  the  camp-fire,  the  Duke  would 
forget  himself,  spring  from  the  rugs,  and  dash  his  scabbard 
upon  the  ground,  until  at  last  when  the  jongleur  told  how 
Roland  wound  his  great  horn  thrice  in  anguish,  after  it  was 
all  too  late  and  the  Prankish  army  far  away,  Godfrey  could 
rein  himself  no  more :  "  By  the  Splendor  of  God  !  "  was  his 
shout,  "  would  that  I  had  been  there  and  my  Lorrainers ! " 
Then  Theroulde  was  fain  to  keep  silence  till  the  terrible  lord 
(for  so  he  guessed  him)  could  be  at  peace.  Late  that  night 
they  parted.  On  the  morrow,  .report  had  it,  the  Pope  would 
address  all  the  Christians  at  Clermont  from  a  pulpit  in  the 
great  square. 

"And  then,  —  and  then," — repeated  the  Duke;  but  he 
said  no  more,  for  they  all  knew  their  own  hearts.  Richard 
lay  down  with  a  heart  lighter  than  it  had  been  for  many  a 
dreary  day.  "  Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  !  "  The  name  was 
talisman  for  every  mortal  woe. 

Long  after  Richard  had  fallen  asleep,  Herbert  sat  with 
Theroulde,  matching  good  stories  before  the  camp-fire. 
The  man-at-arms  lolled  back  at  full  length  by  the  blaze, 
his  spade-like  hands  clasped  under  his  head,  his  sides 
shaking  with  horse-laughs  at  Theroulde's  jests.  Suddenly 
fas  jongleur  cut  his  merry  tale  short. 

"  St.  Michael !  There  is  a  man  lurking  in  the  gloom 
behind  the  Baron's  tent.  Hist !  "  —  and  Theroulde  pointed 
into  the  dark.  Herbert  was  on  his  feet,  and  a  javelin  in 
his  hand,  in  a  twinkling. 

"Where?"  he  whispered,  poising  to  take  aim. 

"He  is  gone,"  replied  the  jongleur;  "the  night  has 
eaten  him  up." 

"You  are  believing  your  own  idle  tales,"  growled  the 
man-at-arms. 


194  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Not  so ;  I  swear  I  saw  him,  and  the  light  as  on  a 
drawn  dagger.  He  was  a  misshaped,  dwarfish  creature." 

Herbert  sped  the  javelin  at  random  into  the  dark.  It 
crashed  on  a  tent-pole.  He  ran  and  recovered  it. 

"  No  one  is  there,"  he  muttered  ;  "  you  dream  with  open 
eyes,  Theroulde.  Tell  no  tale  of  this  to  Lord  Richard. 
He  has  troubles  enough." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HOW   RICHARD    TOOK    THE    CROSS 

WITH  the  dawn  that  twenty-sixth  day  of  November  a 
great  multitude  was  pouring  through  the  gates  of  Clermont. 
A  bleak  wind  was  whistling  from  the  north,  mist  banks 
hung  heavy  on  the  eastern  hills,  veiling  the  sun ;  but  no 
one  had  turned  back.  A  silent  crowd,  speaking  in  whis- 
pers ;  but  all  manner  of  persons  were  in  it  —  seigneur  and 
peasant,  monk  and  bishop,  graybeard  and  child,  lord's 
lady  and  serf's  wife,  —  all  headed  for  the  great  square. 
Richard,  with  Duke  Godfrey  and  Renard  of  Toul,  fought 
their  way  through  the  throng ;  for  what  counted  feudal 
rank  that  day !  They  came  on  a  richly  dressed  lady,  who 
struggled  onward,  dragging  a  bright-eyed  little  boy  of  four. 

"  Help,  kind  cavaliers  !  "  came  her  appeal.  "  In  the 
press  my  husband  has  been  swept  from  me." 

The  three  sprang  to  aid.  She  was  a  sweet-faced  lady, 
reminding  Richard  of  Mary  Kurkuas.  "And  who  may 
your  husband  be  ? "  he  asked,  setting  the  lad  on  his  own 
firm  shoulder. 

"  He  is  Sir  Tescelinde  de  Fontaines  of  Burgundy," 
answered  she,  "  and  I  am  the  Lady  Alethe.  We  wished 
our  little  Bernard  here  should  say  when  he  grew  old,  '  I 
heard  the  Holy  Father  when  he  sent  the  knights  to  Jeru- 
salem.' ' 

"And  he  shall  see  and  hear  him,  by  St.  Michael!" 
cried  Richard,  little  knowing  that  his  stout  shoulder  bore 
him  whom  the  world  in  threescore  years  would  hail 
as  the  sainted  Bernard  of  Clairvaux.  The  boy  stared 
around  with  great  sober  eyes,  looking  wisely  forth  after 
the  manner  of  children. 


196  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"Yes,"  repeated  Richard,  while  Godfrey  and  Renard 
cleared  a  way  to  the  very  centre  of  the  square,  right 
under  the  rude  pulpit  set  for  the  occasion.  There  was 
a  high  stone  cross  standing  in  front  of  the  platform,  and 
Richard  seated  his  burden  on  one  of  its  long  arms. 
"  Now,  my  little  lord,"  cried  he,  "  you  shall  be  under 
the  Pope's  own  eye,  and  your  mother  shall  sit  on  the 
coping  below  and  watch  you." 

"  You  are  a  good  man  !  "  declared  the  child,  impulsively, 
stretching  out  his  little  fat  arms. 

"Ah!"  replied  Richard,  half  wistfully,  as  his  glance  lit 
on  Louis,  who  had  struggled  to  the  front,  "  would  that  all 
might  say  likewise !  " 

Richard  looked  about.  The  ground  rose  a  little  around 
the  pulpit;  he  could  see  a  great  way,  —  faces  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  velvet  caps  and  bare  heads,  women's 
bright  veils  and  monkish  cowls,  silver-plated  helmets  of 
great  lords,  iron  casques  of  men-at-arms,  —  who  might 
number  them  ?  Pennoned  lances  tossed  above  the  multi- 
tude, banners  from  every  roof  and  dark  street  whipped 
the  keen  wind.  Each  window  opening  on  the  wide  square 
was  crowded  with  faces. 

The  Norman  did  not  see  a  certain,  dark-visaged  hunch- 
back, who  strove  to  thrust  himself  through  the  throng  to  a 
station  beside  him.  For  when  Godfrey's  sharp  eyes  and 
frown  fell  on  the  rascal,  he  vanished  instantly  in  the  press. 
But  Longsword  waited,  while  men  climbed  the  trees  about 
and  perched  like  birds  on  the  branches,  and  still  the  multi- 
tude pressed  thicker  and  thicker;  more  helmets,  more 
lances,  more  bright  veils  and  brilliant  scarfs.  Would  the 
people  come  forever  ?  Yet  all  was  wondrously  silent ;  no 
clamor,  no  rude  pressure ;  each  took  post  and  waited,  and 
listened  to  the  beating  of  his  own  heart. 

"  The  Pope  is  in  the  cathedral.  He  is  praying  for  the 
special  presence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  went  the  low  whisper 
from  lip  to  lip.  And  the  multitude  stood  thus  a  long  time, 
many  with  heads  bowed  in  prayer.  The  chill  wind  began 
to  die  away  as  the  sun  mounted.  Richard  could  see 
rifts  in  the  heavy  cloud  banks.  The  shadow  over  the 


HOW   RICHARD  TOOK  THE  CROSS  197 

arena  lifted  little  by  little.  Why  was  it  that  every  breath 
seemed  alive  with  spirits  unseen  ?  that  the  sigh  of  the  flag- 
ging wind  seemed  the  rustle  of  angels'  wings  ?  that  he,  and 
all  others,  half  expected  to  see  bright-robed  hosts  and 
a  snow-white  dove  descending  from  the  dark  cathedral 
tower  ?  More  waiting ;  little  Bernard  began  to  stir  on 
his  hard  seat.  He  was  weary  looking  at  the  crowd.  His 
mother  touched  him.  "  Be  quiet,  dear  child,  bow  your 
head,  and  say  your  '  Our  Father ' ;  the  Holy  Spirit  is  very 
near  to  us  just  now." 

At  last  —  slowly  the  great  central  portal  of  the  cathedral 
opened.  They  could  hear  the  low,  sweet  strains  of  the 
processional  streaming  out  from  the  long  nave;  the  doors 
swung  wider ;  and  forth  in  slow  procession  came  priests 
and  prelates  in  snow-white  linen,  two  by  two,  the  bishops 
crowned  with  white  mitres,  and  around  them  floated  a  pale 
haze  as  the  faint  breeze  bore  onward  the  smoke  from  a 
score  of  censers  swinging  in  the  acolytes'  hands,  as  they 
marched  beside.  But  before  all,  in  a  cope  where  princely 
gems  were  blazing,  marched  the  grave  and  stately  Adhemar 
of  Monteil,  Lord  Bishop  of  Puy,  and  in  his  hands,  held 
on  high,  a  great  crucifix  of  gold  and  ivory.  And  as  the 
white-robed  company  advanced  the  multitude  could  hear 
them  singing  the  noble  sequence  of  St.  Notker :  — 

"  The  grace  of  the  Holy  Ghost  be  present  with  us, 
And  make  our  hearts  a  dwelling-place  to  itself; 
And  expel  from  them  all  spiritual  wickedness  ! " 

While  the  procession  advanced,  the  people  gave  way 
to  right  and  left  before  it ;  and  a  great  swaying  and  mur- 
mur began  to  run  through  them,  waxing  more  and  more 
when,  at  the  end,  the  clear  voices  sang  :  — 

"  Thyself,  by  bestowing  on  the  apostles  of  Christ  a  gift  immortal  and 

unheard  of  from  all  ages, 
Hast  made  this  day  glorious." 

"Verily  the  Holy  Spirit  is  not  far  from  us,"  said  Duke 
Godfrey,  softly,  as  the  last  strains  rang  out.  Still  more 
prelates,  more  priests;  forth  came  Dalmace,  archbishop 


198  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

of  Narbonne,  William,  bishop  of  Orange,  Matfred  of 
Beziers,  Peter,  abbot  of  Aniane,  and  a  hundred  great 
churchmen  more.  Then,  last  of  all,  with  his  cardinals  all 
about  him,  and  a  heavy  cross  of  crystal  carried  aloft,  came 
the  Vicar  of  God  on  earth.  Richard  beheld  the  glow- 
ing whiteness  of  the  bands  of  his  pallium,  whereon  black 
crosses  were  embroidered ;  the  jewels  flashing  on  the  cope 
and  its  golden  clasp ;  the  gold  on  his  mitre  higher  than  all 
the  rest.  He  could  see  the  face  of  the  pontiff,  pale,  wrapt, 
spiritual,  looking  not  at  the  mighty  crowd  about,  that  was 
beginning  to  sink  to  its  knees,  but  up  into  the  heavens,  as 
though  beyond  the  dun  clouds  he  had  vision  of  fairer 
heavens  and  fairer  earth.  Then  the  chanting  clerics  sang 
again,  and  advanced  more  boldly.  And  as  they  moved, 
two  knights  striding  at  either  side  of  the  Pope  raised 
lances,  and  shook  out  long  banners  of  white  silk,  upon 
each  a  blood-red  cross.  Loud  and  joyful  now  was  the 
singing:  — 

"  The  Royal  Banners  forward  go ; 

The  Cross  shines  forth  with  mystic  glow ; 

Where  He  in  flesh,  our  flesh  who  made, 

Our  sentence  bore,  our  ransom  paid. 

"  O  Tree  of  beauty  !  Tree  of  light ! 
O  Tree  with  royal  purple  dight ! 
Elect  on  whose  triumphal  breast, 
Those  holy  limbs  should  find  their  rest ! " 

Louder  the  singing.  As  the  people  gave  way,  the  prel- 
ates and  priests  stood  at  either  side,  while  the  Pope  as- 
cended the  pulpit,  at  his  side  Peter  the  Hermit.  First 
spoke  Peter.  The  little  monk  was  eloquent  as  never 
before.  He  told  the  familiar  tale  of  the  woes  of  the 
Jerusalem  Christians,  so  that  not  a  soul  was  untouched  by 
mortal  pang.  At  times  it  seemed  the  multitude  must  break 
forth  ;  but  no  sound  came :  only  a  swaying  and  sobbing  as 
from  ten  thousand  hearts.  Then  a  long  silence,  when  he 
ceased.  It  was  so  still,  all  could  hear  the  gentle  wind 
crooning  over  the  tree-tops,  and  when  a  little  child  began 
to  wail,  its  cry  was  hushed  —  affrighted  at  its  own  clamor. 

Then  stood  forth  the  Pope.     And  if  it  had  been  silent 


HOW  RICHARD  TOOK  THE   CROSS  199 

before,  there  was  deeper  silence  now.  The  very  wind  grew 
still,  and  every  breath  was  bated.  Far  and  wide  over  that 
mighty  throng  the  pontiff  threw  his  voice,  clear  as  a  trum- 
pet, yet  musical  and  soulful.  His  words  were  not  in  the 
stately  Latin,  but  in  the  sweet  familiar  Languedoc,  and 
entered  men's  hearts  like  live  coals  from  off  the  altar. 

"  Nation  of  France :  nation  whose  boast  it  is  you  are 
the  elect  of  God,  glorious  in  your  faith  and  love  of  Holy 
Church,  you  I  address.  For  you  have  heard  and  your 
souls  are  torn  with  the  sorrows  wrought  at  Jerusalem  by 
that  race  so  hateful  to  God.  You  have  heard,  and  I  know 
well  what  moves  within  your  hearts.  Shall  I  repeat  the 
words  of  this  holy  hermit  ?  Shall  I  tell  how  churches  are 
beaten  down,  or  —  Christ  forbid  —  become  temples  of  the 
accursed  worship  ?  Shall  I  tell  how  Christians  have  bathed 
the  very  altars  in  their  blood ;  how  your  brethren  have 
chosen  martyrdom,  rather  than  deny  Christ's  name  ?  O 
Holy  Cross  of  Christ,  verily  thy  dumb  wood  must  cry  out, 
nay,  the  stones  break  silence  if  the  Christians  of  the  West 
harden  their  hearts  and  will  not  hear ;  if  no  sword  flashes 
forth  in  vengeance,  no  army  hastes  to  succor  the  Sacred 
City." 

And  Urban  had  gone  no  further  when  there  was  again 
a  swaying,  throbbing,  sobbing  in  the  crowd.  For  an  instant 
the  Pope's  voice  was  drowned,  not  by  outcry,  but  by  one 
vast  murmur.  He  beckoned;  there  was  silence,  then 
higher  rose  his  voice. 

"  O  saintly  spirits  of  Charlemagne,  and  of  Louis  his 
pious  son,  scourges  of  Saracens,  why  do  ye  sleep  ?  Awake ; 
awake ;  tell  your  children  of  France  that  holy  war  is  theirs  ! 
O  souls  of  the  martyrs,  long  at  rest,  awake,  awake ; 
stir  the  cold  hearts  of  these  Christians  that  I  may  not 
speak  in  vain !  O  Holy  Tomb  of  Our  Lord,  and  thou 
Calvary,  where  the  price  for  all  our  sins  was  paid,  speak 
forth  the  sorrows  of  Christ's  servants  to  these  hard  Western 
hearts.  Kindle  our  hearts,  O  Lord,  and  grant  Thine  own 
spirit,  that  I  may  speak  as  becometh  Thee  and  Thy  Holy 
City  —  Jerusalem ! 

"  Sweet  children  in  Christ,  hear  the  cry  of   that  city ; 


200  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

hear  the  cry  of  those  holy  fields  where  trod  the  Son  of 
God ;  hear  the  moan  of  the  Christian  virgins  torn  to  cap- 
tivity by  paynim  hands ;  hear  the  cry  to  God  of  ten  thou- 
sand souls  whose  blood  smokes  to  heaven !  How  long ! 
O  Lord,  how  long !  When  will  come  vengeance  on  the  op- 
pressor !  "  —  Again  the  multitude  were  quaking,  —  a  deep 
roar  springing  from  a  myriad  throats,  and  hands  were  on 
hilts,  and  pennons  shook  madly.  But  Urban  dropped  his 
voice,  and  again  commanded  silence. 

"  Wherefore  has  God  suffered  this.  ?  Does  He  take  pleas- 
ure in  the  woes  of  His  children  ?  Is  He  glad  when  unbe- 
lievers pollute  His  altars,  hew  in  pieces  His  holy  bishops, 
and  cry,  '  See  how  helpless  is  your  crucified  Lord  ! '  Ah, 
sweet  children,  look  into  your  own  hearts,  and  search  if 
you  are  meet  instruments  to  do  His  pleasure.  Let  us  weep, 
let  us  weep  over  Jerusalem !  Let  us  weep,  let  us  weep 
over  our  own  sins,  for  each  one  of  us  has  more  than 
the  hairs  of  his  head ;  and  in  the  sight  of  God  none  is 
worthy  even  to  behold  the  Holy  City  from  afar;  and  if 
not  worthy  of  the  earthly  city,  how  much  less  of  the 
heavenly !  All,  all  have  sinned  in  God's  pure  sight.  I 
see  cavaliers,  sworn  defenders  of  Holy  Church;  your 
hands  are  red  with  Christian  blood  wantonly  shed.  I  see 
great  prelates,  touched  with  the  sacred  chrism,  —  unworthy 
shepherds  of  Christ's  sheep ;  you  are  stained  with  pride, 
hypocrisy,  lust  of  power.  I  see  men  and  women  of  mean 
estate  ;  selfishness,  lust,  unholy  hate,  are  strong  within  you. 
All,  all  have  sinned  !  " 

And  now  strong  men  were  kneeling  and  groaning,  "  No 
more!"  —  were  stretching  out  their  arms  to  heaven,  and 
moaning,  "  Mercy  !  mercy  !  "  and  here  one  man  and  there 
another  was  crying  out  that  he  had  committed  some  direful 
deed,  calling  on  all  around  to  pray  God  with  him  for  par- 
don. But  Urban  kept  on. 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  sweet  children ;  your  sins  are  great, 
but  greater  is  the  mercy  of  God.  For  I  stand  before  you 
clothed  with  power  from  on  high.  Mine  are  the  keys  of 
heaven  and  earth  and  hell.  And  I  say  to  you,  despite  your 
sins,  you  are  forgiven.  Shed  no  bootless  tears ;  for  deeds, 


HOW  RICHARD  TOOK  THE   CROSS  201 

not  tears,  to-day  avail.  The  heritage  of  the  Lord  is  wasted  ; 
the  Queen  of  cities  groans  in  chains  —  who,  who  will  spring 
to  her  release  ? 

"  Warriors  who  own  the  name  of  Christ,  you  I  address,  — 
you,  who  have  slain  wickedly  in  unholy  war,  rejoice !  A 
holy  war  awaits  !  You  who  have  sped  fellow-Christians  to 
death,  rejoice!  God  will  give  you  to  trample  down  the 
alien !  Draw  forth  the  sword  of  the  Maccabees,  and  go 
forward.  To  him  who  lives,  God  will  give  the  spoils  of  the 
heathen  for  an  inheritance ;  him  who  dies,  Christ  Jesus  will 
confess  before  his  Father.  Draw  forth  the  sword,  Chris- 
tians of  France !  Draw  forth,  and  let  it  flush  red  in  the 
unbelievers'  blood !  For  this  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and  he 
who  enters  upon  it,  casting  out  all  hate  for  his  brother  from 
his  heart,  and  with  the  love  of  Christ  strong  within,  is 
purged  of  all  sin,  be  it  however  great,  and  his  name  is  writ- 
ten in  the  book  of  life!" — A  mighty  din  was  rising,  but 
Urban's  voice  swelled  above  it  all.  "  Soldiers  of  Hell, 
become  soldiers  of  tlie  living  God!"  was  his  cry,  facing 
straight  upon  Richard  ;  "  lands,  fame,  home,  friends,  love, 
—  put  them  all  by ;  remember  the  wounds  of  Christ,  the 
moans  of  Jerusalem  ;  for  now  again  Christ  says  to  you,  '  He 
who  loveth  father  and  mother  more  than  me  is  not  worthy 
of  me ;  if  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  him- 
self and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me  —  "  No  more; 
for  there  rose  a  thunder  as  when  storm-driven  billows 
break  upon  the  beach. 

"  God  wills  it !  "  From  Richard's  lips  it  had  sprung,  all 
unbidden.  Godfrey  had  caught  it — Hildebrand's  battle- 
cry.  And  as  if  the  shout  had  reached  high  heaven,  that 
instant  the  dun  clouds  parted.  The  sun  streamed  on  naked 
swords  and  tossing  lances  innumerable  ;  the  flashing  of  the 
brightness  was  terrible  as  celestial  light. 

"  God  wills  it !  " 

Every  tongue  had  caught  the  cry.  It  swelled  forth,  un- 
bidden, the  voicings  of  the  passion  in  ten  thousand  "breasts. 
The  sun  glanced  on  the  crystal  cross  in  the  Pope's  hand  : 
those  who  saw  were  dazzled,  and  looked  away. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Urban,  across  the  sea  of  quivering  steel, 


202  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  God  sends  His  own  sign  from  on  high.  Truly,  thus  '  God 
wills  it ! '  To-day  is  fulfilled  the  Saviour's  promise,  that 
where  His  faithful  are  He  will  be.  He  it  is  that  has  put 
these  words  in  your  hearts ;  choose  them  as  battle-cry  ;  for 
on  your  side  will  be  the  God  of  battles,  and  at  His  will 
you  shall  trample  down  the  unbeliever." 

Then  Urban  raised  on  high  the  fire-bathed  cross. 
"  See,"  cried  he  once  more,  his  voice  rising  above  the 
swelling  din,  "  Christ  Himself  issues  from  the  tomb,  and 
gives  to  you  this  cross.  It  shall  be  the  sign  lifted  among 
the  nations  which  is  to  gather  together  the  outcasts  of 
Israel.  Wear  it  upon  your  shoulders,  upon  your  breasts ; 
let  it  shine  upon  your  arms,  surety  of  victory  or  palm  of 
martyrdom ;  unceasing  reminder  that  as  Christ  died  for 
you,  so  ought  you  to  die  for  Him  and  His  glory ! " 

Again  rose  the  clamor,  and  until  they  chanted  his  death- 
mass  Richard  forgot  not  that  hour.  One  wild  cry  went 
up,  the  scope  of  heaven  shook,  the  earth  quaked ;  and 
now  the  shout  was,  "The  Cross !  the  Cross !  to  Jerusalem  !  " 
The  swords  danced  more  madly,  and  little  Bernard  rose 
from  his  seat,  tossed  his  tiny  fists  in  the  air,  and  joined  the 
mighty  cry.  Louis  de  Valmont,  who  had  stood  opposite 
Richard  all  the  time,  and  drunk  in  each  word,  ran  out 
before  all  men,  flung  his  mailed  arms  round  Longsword's 
neck  and  kissed  him,  while  tears  streamed  down  his 
face. 

"  O  sweet  brother,"  cried  the  Auvergner,  all  melted, 
"  I  too  have  sinned  greatly  in  God's  sight.  I  cannot  go 
to  Jerusalem  with  hate  upon  my  soul.  I  forgive  the  death 
of  Gilbert ;  pray  that  Our  Lord  may  forgive  me !  " 

The  other  men  who  had  nursed  unholy  wrath  one  to  the 
other  began  to  embrace,  and  to  beg  for  pardon ;  and  many 
more*  kneeling  stretched  up  their  arms,  calling  heaven  to 
witness  they  would  shed  no  more  Christian  blood  till  the 
Holy  City  was  redeemed.  Urban  stood  upon  the  platform, 
silent,  and  looking  out  upon  the  throng  with  a  smile  that 
the  beholders  thought  was  not  of  this  world.  But  when  the 
surgings  of  the  multitude  were  a  little  stayed,  the  Pope 
again  beckoned,  and  there  was  great  silence.  Then  Cardi- 


HOW   RICHARD  TOOK  THE  CROSS  203 

nal  Gregory  came  forward,  and  all  knelt  and  beat  their 
breasts,  repeating  the  Confiteor. 

"  I  have  sinned  exceedingly  in  thought,  word,  and  deed, 
through  my  fault,  through  my  fault,  through  my  most 
grievous  fault,"  repeated  the  thousands ;  "  therefore  I 
beseech  the  blessed  Mary,  ever  Virgin,  the  blessed  Michael, 
the  archangel,  the  blessed  John  the  Baptist,  the  Holy  Apos- 
tles, Peter  and  Paul,  and  all  the  saints  to  pray  to  the  Lord 
Our  God  for  me." 

Then  when  every  casqued  head  was  bowed  low,  the  Cardi- 
nal proclaimed  in  a  voice  which  the  most  distant  might  hear, 
"  To  as  many  as  shall  from  pure  love  of  Christ  take  the 
cross  to  go  for  the  deliverance  of  Jerusalem,  the  same  I  do 
absolve  from  all  their  sins,  and  declare  them  spotless  and 
perfect,  in  sight  of  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and 
God  the  Holy  Ghost.  Amen !  "  And  the  words  fell  on 
Richard's  soul  like  water  on  fevered  lips.  Another  great 
cry,  "  The  Cross  !  the  Cross  !  "  and  the  thousands  surged 
with  one  impulse  toward  the  pulpit,  demanding  the  sa- 
cred token  at  the  pontiff's  own  hands.  And  nigh  fore- 
most was  Richard ;  not  first,  for  Bishop  Adhemar  of  Puy, 
his  heart  burning  with  holy  fire,  was  already  kneeling 
before  the  Pope,  and  Urban  was  pinning  a  red-cloth  cross 
upon  his  shoulder.  But  Richard  had  sprung  upon  the 
platform  and  was  next. 

The  Pope  smiled  when  he  saw  his  mighty  frame  and 
sinews  of  iron  —  a  direful  foe  of  the  infidels ! 

"  Father,  Holy  Father,  do  you  not  know  me  ? "  cried 
Richard. 

"  I  do  not,  sweet  son,"  said  Urban,  pinning  fast  the 
cross. 

"  I  am  that  lad  Richard  who  stood  by  Pope  Gregory's 
bedside ;  but  I  have  greatly  sinned." 

"  Be  of  good  cheer !  "  said  the  pontiff,  gently ;  "  you  have 
remembered  your  vow.  Your  sin,  however  great,  is  for- 
gotten of  God." 

So  Richard  stood  back,  while  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  knelt 
to  receive  the  cross.  At  sight  of  him  Urban  smiled  again, 
and  would  have  spoken ;  for  he  recognized  the  great 


204  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Duke.  But  Godfrey  whispered,  "  Not  here,  Holy  Father, 
not  here ;  but  soon  from  Metz  to  Antwerp  I  will  be  calling 
out  my  vassals  to  go  to  Jerusalem."  Then  Godfrey  stepped 
back,  with  the  red  badge  upon  his  breast ;  after  him  came 
Renard  of  Toul ;  after  him  Louis  de  Valmont ;  and  then 
the  merry  priest  Raymond  of  Agiles,  merry  no  longer,  but 
with  a  grave  and  consequential  cast  upon  his  face.  As 
he  knelt  before  the  Holy  Father,  he  said  he  took  the  cross 
both  in  his  own  name  and  in  that  of  his  lord  and  patron 
Raymond,  sovereign  Count  of  St.  Gilles  and  Toulouse, 
who  pledged  himself  to  the  war  with  all  his  southern  chiv- 
alry. Then  there  was  more  shouting  and  rejoicing,  and 
it  seemed  as  if  the  clamor  would  never  end,  nor  the  train 
of  knights  and  barons  cease  advancing  to  kneel  before 
the  Pope  and  receive  the  cross. 

Hour  after  hour  sped  by,  still  Urban  stood  and  gave  his 
blessing,  and  a  brave  and  pious  word  to  each  stout  cavalier 
who  came.  The  priests  brought  red  cloth  from  the  presses 
in  the  bishop's  palace,  and  more  and  more.  Still  not  enough; 
and  gayly  dressed  knights  gave  up  their  scarlet  bleaunts 
for  the  Holy  Father  to  tear  into  the  sacred  emblem.  Then 
at  last,  when  the  sun  was  near  its  setting  and  men  finally 
felt  a  bleak  wind  biting,  the  Pope  spoke  again. 

"  Dear  children,"  said  he  in  closing,  "  you  have  done 
a  great  thing  this  day.  What  you  have  promised  may 
cost  you  dear  in  blood  and  worldly  estate ;  yet,  remem- 
ber the  warning  to  him  who  putteth  the  hand  to  the 
plough  and  looketh  back.  I  bid  any  who  would  with- 
draw, .to  do  it  now ;  and  he  commits  no  sin."  Again  the 
cry,  "  To  Jerusalem  !  God  wills  it !  "  and  no  man  stirred. 
"  Then,"  continued  Urban,  "  let  him  who  hereafter  shall 
turn  back,  be  excommunicate  and  anathema.  Anathema 
upon  him  who  shall  hinder  the  soldiers  of  the  Cross ! 
Anathema  upon  him  who  shall  harm  their  family  or  estate, 
while  they  fight  the  Lord's  battles.  Gladly  would  I  go 
with  you  to  win  the  crown  of  martyrdom  or  of  victory, 
but  the  Antipope  is  still  in  Italy;  the  Emperor  and  the 
king  of  France  still  defy  Holy  Church.  Adhemar  of  Puy 
I  appoint  my  legate,  and  under  his  guidance  you  shall 


HOW  RICHARD  TOOK  THE   CROSS  205 

go  forth.     And  now  my  blessing  and  absolution'  upon  you 
all.     Amen." 

So  the  great  multitude  scattered  far  and  wide  ;  upon  the 
breast  of  every  man  a  red  cross,  and  in  his  heart  a  joy 
as  of  another  world ;  for  it  was  as  if  a  voice  had  spoken 
to  each  and  all  out  of  a  cloud,  "  Thy  sins  which  are  many 
are  forgiven."  Richard  strode  back  to  his  tent  with  Louis 
de  Valmont  beside  him ;  and  all  the  air  seemed  sweet,  and 
their  words  came  fast,  as  between  two  long-time  friends, 
while  above  in  the  crisp  night  the  stars  burned  like  cres- 
sets lit  by  the  angels. 


CHAPTER   XX 

HOW   RICHARD   RECEIVED    GREAT   MERCY 

IN  later  days  wise  monks  wrote  that  at  the  moment  the 
great  cry  went  up  at  Clermont,  all  the  Christians  of  the 
world  from  cold  Hibernia  to  parching  Africa  thrilled  with 
joy  ineffable,  and  on  all  the  paynims  there  fell  fear  and 
trembling.  Be  this  true  or  false,  from  the  Pyrenees  to 
the  Rhine  over  wide  France  ran  a  fire;  from  Auvergne  to 
Aquitaine,  to  Anjou,  to  the  He  de  France,  to  Normandy. 

There  were  signs  and  wonders  in  the  heavens  —  stars 
fell  from  the  firmament;  the  clouds  pictured  armies  and 
knights  who  wore  the  red  cross  on  their  breasts.  The 
shade  of  mighty  Charlemagne  was  seen  coming  forth  in 
his  hoary  majesty,  with  sword  pointing  toward  Jerusalem. 
Not  knights  only,  but  women  and  little  children  ran  after 
those  who  preached  the  gospel  of  steel  and  fire.  Quiet 
monks  forgot  their  abbey  kitchens ;  hermits  forsook  their 
solitudes  on  the  hills  —  greater  merit  to  win  the  pilgrim's 
absolution !  The  peasants  wandered  from  their  fields  in 
masterless  companies,  roving  on  aimlessly,  conscious  only 
that  Jerusalem  lay  toward  the  sun-rising.  And  bandits 
left  their  lairs,  confessing  their  crimes,  eager  to  take  the 
cross.  Up  and  down  France  went  Urban  and  Peter;  at 
Rouen,  at  Tours,  at  Nimes,  there  were  other  Clermonts  : 
each  bishop  called  forth  his  flock.  Too  often  the  tales  of 
Eastern  gold  and  of  paynim  beauties  were  more  enticing 
to  the  roistering  knights,  than  summons  to  holy  warfare. 
But  the  sense  of  sin  hung  heavy  on  the  land.  No  avarice 
drove  Stephen  of  Chartres  to  take  the  cross,  great  count 
that  he  was  with  more  castles  than  days  in  the  year ;  nor 
did  Robert  of  Flanders  pour  out  his  father's  princely 

206 


HOW  RICHARD   RECEIVED  GREAT  MERCY     207 

treasure  in  hopes  of  pelf ;  nor  Robert  of  Normandy  pawn 
his  duchy.  In  the  south,  Raymond  of  Toulouse,  haughtiest 
lord  in  France,  whom  more  lances  followed  than  followed 
even  the  king,  set  forth  for  Palestine,  determined  there  to 
leave  his  bones.  With  him  went  his  wife,  the  Princess 
Elvira  of  Spain,  and  at  Raymond's  back  were  all  the 
chivalry  of  the  south  country,  of  Gascony,  Languedoc, 
Limousin,  and  Auvergne,  along  with  Bishop  Adhemar,  and 
the  great  prelates  of  Apt,  Lodeve,  and  Orange.  So  from 
the  least  to  the  greatest  all  were  stirred ;  and  if  King 
Philip,  and  William  the  Red,  and  Emperor  Henry  moved 
not  —  what  matter  ?  For  the  might  of  Christendom  lay  not 
in  its  phantom  kings,  but  in  its  great  barons  and  knights 
whose  good  swords  would  hew  the  way  to  Jerusalem. 
Thus  the  winter  sped,  and  with  the  coming  of  spring 
France  was  ready  to  pour  forth  her  flood  of  life ! 

So  with  France.  And  how  with  Richard  ?  He  had 
returned  to  his  tent  after  the  great  day  atClermontwith  a 
light  heart  and  a  merry  laugh.  Duke  Godfrey  was  with 
him,  and  Renard  of  Toul  and  Louis  de  Valmont.  They 
had  left  little  Bernard  with  his  father,  and  Richard  saw  the 
lad  no  more,  until  after  many  years  he  heard  him  preaching 
as  never  Peter  the  Hermit  preached,  and  calling  on  men  not 
to  go  to  Jerusalem,  but  to  cast  from  their  hearts  their 
own  dark  sins.  The  night  was  cold,  a  keen  wind  was 
again  whistling  from  the  western  puys,  and  Richard 
brought  all  his  friends  with  him  to  his  tent,  to  cement 
friendship  by  passing  the  night  in  his  company.  Before 
the  roaring  camp-fire  they  sat  a  long  time,  talking  of  the 
brave  days  in  store.  Godfrey  gulped  down  eagerly  all 
that  Louis  and  Richard  had  gathered  in  Sicily  of  the 
country  and  manners  of  warfare  of  the  infidels,  and  they 
knew  in  turn  that  a  great  captain  and  master-at-arms 
was  speaking  with  them.  Already  Godfrey  was  ordering 
his  campaign. 

"  And  the  number  of  the  unbelievers  ?  "  he  would  ask. 

"  More  than  the  sea-sands,"  Longsword  replied,  "  and 
they  say  they  are  all  light  cavalry  and  archers." 


208  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  By  Our  Lady  of  Antwerp  !  "  cried  the  Duke,  "  we 
must  pray  then  for  a  close  country  and  a  hand  to  hand 
ntlUe  !" 

"  Ah  !  "  declared  Renard  of  Toul,  "  what  matter  how  we 
fight !  Is  not  the  Lord  on  our  side,  and  St.  Michael  and 
St.  George  !  " 

The  Duke  laughed  merrily. 

"  You  are  the  same  mad  Renard  as  ever,"  said  he.  "  Is 
it  not  written,  '  Thou  shalt  not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God  ? ' 
But,"  continued  he,  gayly,  "  in  good  time  let  me  see  the 
Holy  City  on  high;  yet  not  until  I  have  had  a  good  joust, 
chasing  the  paynims  from  that  on  earth !  " 

Thus  ran  the  talk,  but  presently  Louis  said :  — 

"  And  did  you,  De  St.  Julien,  see  in  the  multitude  a  cer- 
tain dwarfish,  dark-skinned  fellow,  who  stood  right  back  of 
you  all  the  time  the  Holy  Father  was  speaking,  his  eyes 
fastened  not  on  the  Lord  Pope,  but  on  you  ? " 

"  I  did  not ;  why  did  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because,  though  I  was  some  little  way  off,  I  could  have 
sworn  that  he  was  Zeyneb,  the  body-servant  of  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh,  and  he  seemed  as  if  devouring  you  with  his 
eyes." 

"  Zeyneb  ?  He  who  gave  his  master  the  iron  lance 
instead  of  the  reed,  when  Iftikhar  rode  against  Musa  the 
Spaniard  ? " 

Louis  nodded. 

"  You  are  bewitched,  fair  sir,"  laughed  Richard,  gayly ; 
"  the  rascal  was  long  since  in  Syria  or  Egypt."  And  here 
his  face  grew  dark,  as  he  thought  of  the  sack  of  Cefalu, 
and  that  Eleanor  might  be  in  the  clutches  of  Zeyneb  him- 
self that  moment.  It  was  well  to  forgive  Christian  ene- 
mies, but  to  hate  infidel  foes  took  on  new  merit  by  wearing 
the  cross,  and  Richard  was  not  minded  to  forget  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh. 

"  On  the  relics  I  could  swear  I  saw  him ! "  protested 
Louis. 

"  It  is  true,"  added  Godfrey ;  "  I  set  eyes  on  such  a 
knave.  Not  that  I  set  him  down  as  infidel.  But  I  had 
little  liking  to  have  such  a  fellow  within  arm's  length ;  my 


HOW  RICHARD  RECEIVED  GREAT  MERCY     209 

ribs  nigh  itched  with  a  dagger  at  merely  seeing  him.  When 
he  sidled  up  to  us,  I  gave  him  a  frown  that  made  him  hide 
his  black  head  in  the  crowd." 

"  Well,  fair  Duke,"  said  Richard,  "  rest  assured,  he  has 
not  come  to  hear  the  Holy  Father,  if  this  is  Zeyneb,  thef 
slave  of  Iftikhar.  Bishop  Robert  wrote  something  of  his 
coming  to  France,  but  entirely  doubted  the  tale." 

"  By  St.  Michael  of  Antwerp,"  declared  Godfrey,  "what 
do  infidels  at  Clermont?" 

Richard  shook  his  head,  but  Herbert,  who  heard  all, 
came  to  him  only  a  moment  afterwards  and  led  him  aside. 

"  Little  lord,  —  you  must  wear  the  ring-shirt." 

The  Baron  resisted.  "You  grow  fearful  as  an  old 
woman,  Herbert.  Godfrey  and  Louis  dream,  when  they 
say  a  creature  of  Iftikhar  is  in  Clermont." 

But  Sebastian  urged  as  well. 

"  Theroulde  and  Herbert  have  seen  him  also.  As  you 
love  our  Lord,  do  not  peril  your  life.  Why  has  Zeyneb 
come  to  Clermont,  save  to  do  what  failed  at  Cefalu  ? " 

"  Faugh  !  "  growled  Richard,  "  will  not  God  despise  me, 
if  I  shiver  at  every  gust  of  danger  ? " 

"  As  you  love  my  Lady  Mary,  do  this !  "  pressed  Herbert 
shrewdly,  and  at  Mary's  name  Richard  submitted  meekly 
as  a  lamb.  Thus  all  that  evening  Longsword  grumbled 
at  the  precaution,  and  swore  he  would  wear  no  more  mail 
till  he  came  face  to.  face  with  the  unbelievers.  But  he 
grumbled  no  longer,  for  just  as  the  stars  told  it  was  past 
midnight,  he  was  waked  from  sound  sleep  by  a  blow  that 
sent  him  to  his  feet  blinking  and  staggering.  And  lo,  the 
wall  of  the  tent  against  which  he  lay  was  pierced  clean 
through  by  a  dagger  that  had  broken  against  the  Valencia 
shirt ;  for  a  bit  of  the  blade  lay  on  the  canvas.  Herbert 
and  De  Carnac  were  swearing  loudly  that  they  had  not 
closed  an  eye  all  night,  but  it  was  Louis  who  darted  into 
the  darkness,  and  came  back  with  a  strange  fellow  held  in 
no  gentle  grip.  He  dragged  the  prisoner  to  the  dying  fire- 
light ;  they  saw  his  coarse  villain's  blouse,  a  spine  so  bent 
that  he  was  nigh  hunchback,  a  poll  of  coarse  black  hair 
that  scarcely  came  up  to  Richard's  elbow,  a  face  not  un- 


zio  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

handsome,  but  with  black  eyes  very  small  and  teeth  sharp 
and  white.  One  shout  greeted  him,  as  he  was  held  before 
the  fire. 

"  Zeyneb  !  Zeyneb,  the  slave  of  Iftikhar  Eddauleh ! " 

The  fellow  held  down  his  head,  and  twisted  his  face  as 
if  to  defy  recognition. 

"  Ha!  "  cried  Renard  of  Toul,  "he  has  a  dagger-sheath 
in  his  belt !  Empty  ?  Ah,  the  crows  will  love  his 
bones ! " 

Richard  had  found  his  tongue. 

"And  does  my  Lord  Iftikhar,"  asked  he  in  Arabic, 
"think  it  cavalier-wise  to  send  out  assassins  like  your 
worthy  self,  when  he  cannot  reach  his  foe  with  his  own 
arm  ?  This  and  the  deeds  at  Cefalu  put  me  greatly  in  his 
debt  —  let  him  be  well  paid  !  " 

"  The  arm  and  eye  of  the  grand  prior  of  the  Ismaelians 
reach  to  farthest  Frankland,  my  Cid,"  quoth  Zeyneb, 
standing  very  limp  in  Louis's  clutch. 

"  And  the  arm  shall  be  soon  lopped  off,"  retorted  the 
Auvergner.  But  at  that  instant  his  firm  hold  weakened. 
Untimely  slackening !  with  a  lightning  twist  and  turn 
Zeyneb  had  slid  from  De  Valmont's  clutches,  as  if  of  oil ; 
gone  in  the  dark  before  the  knights  could  cry  out.  The 
night  swallowed  him  as  if  he  were  a  spectre. 

"After!  after!"  thundered  Godfrey.  "  Fifty  Tours 
deniers  to  him  that  seizes !  " 

There  was  a  mighty  shout.  All  the  neighboring  tents 
were  in  uproar.  A  friendly  baron  loaned  bloodhounds; 
but  which  of  the  many  trails  was  Zey neb's  who  might  say  ? 
All  night  they  beat  the  camp ;  a  hundred  idle  knaves  were 
haled  before  Richard,  each  one  of  whom  doubtless  would 
have  been  the  better  for  being  knocked  on  the  head ;  but 
none  was  the  dwarf.  At  dawn  Richard  went  wearily  to 
rest,  but  criers  scoured  the  country,  calling  on  all  good 
Christians  to  begin  the  Crusade  by  catching  this  infidel 
assassin.  Several  townspeople  told  how  the  fugitive  had 
come  to  Clermont  a  few  days  since,  pretending  he  was 
an  Eastern  Christian  exiled  by  Moslem  persecutors.  They 
had  given  him  great  compassion,  and  answered  his  ques- 


HOW  RICHARD   RECEIVED  GREAT   MERCY     211 

tions  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  Richard  de  St.  Julien,  whom 
he  said  he  was  seeking.  But  all  the  search  brought  nothing. 

"  Strange,"  commented  Richard,  "  Iftikhar  should  use 
him  as  agent;  his  crooked  back  stops  all  disguise." 

"  You  do  not  know  him,  little  lord,"  answered  Herbert. 
"  Satan  has  given  him  a  heart  as  darkly  crafty  as  his  black 
eyes.  I  have  heard  his  fame  at  Palermo.  Undisguised, 
he  is  a  rat  sly  enough  to  creep  through  a  hole  too  small 
for  a  beetle." 

And  Sebastian  piously  admonished :  — 

"  Dear  son,  now  that  you  have  taken  the  cross  and  your 
sins  are  forgiven,  great  mercy  is  shown  you.  Be  very 
humble,  for  God  has  some  wondrous  service  in  store ! " 

The  admonition  Richard  treasured  in  his  heart;  but  he 
did  not  so  far  tempt  Providence  as  to  put  by  the  Valencia 
hauberk,  and  Herbert  kept  guard  over  him  night  and  day. 
Also  a  courier  speeded  to  La  Haye  with  a  letter  bidding 
Baron  Hardouin  have  a  care  that  Iftikhar  did  not  try  to 
repeat  his  Cefalu  raid,  and  to  leave  no  Syrian  dwarf  un- 
hanged in  his  barony. 

A  few  days  thereafter  the  great  gathering  at  Clermont 
scattered ;  and  Heaven  knew  there  was  much  to  be  done, 
if  the  hosts  of  the  Lord  were  not  to  set  forth  with  scrip 
and  staff  merely !  The  Duke  of  Bouillon  parted  with 
Richard  and  Louis  as  became  Christian  brothers-in-arms, 
and  went  homeward  to  rouse  his  vassals.  As  for  De  Val- 
mont,  he  had  need  to  go  to  Champagne ;  but  Longsword 
rode  straight  for  St.  Julien.  Every  peasant  he  met  on  the 
road,  when  they  saw  he  was  a  gallant  knight,  begged  him 
to  be  their  leader  to  Jerusalem.  Almost  every  breast  wore 
the  red  cross ;  women  bore  it,  and  little  children.  "  God 
wills  it !  To  Jerusalem  !  "  That  was  the  one  cry.  Yet 
Richard  was  sad  at  times ;  for  he  saw  that  men  acted  in 
ignorance,  and  that  their  very  zeal  would  destroy  them. 

As  for  Sebastian,  he  had  a  word  of  the  prophets  at  all 
moments  in  his  mouth,  and  saw  in  everything  a  manifest 
sign  that  the  days  foretold  in  the  Apocalypse  were  at 
hand,  when  "  the  Beast "  and  all  that  served  him  were 
nigh  their  end,  and  the  righteous  should  rule  forever. 


212  GOD  WILLS  IT1 

"  Now  is  fulfilled  the  word  of  the  Lord  !  "  was  his  cry. 
"  Fear  not,  for  I  am  with  thee.  I  will  bring  thy  seed  from 
the  East  and  gather  thee  from  the  West ;  I  will  say  unto 
the  North,  '  Give  up,'  and  to  the  South,  '  Keep  not  back ; 
bring  my  sons  from  far  and  my  daughters  from  the  ends 
of  the  earth.'  ' 

Only  Richard  saw  that  the  shrewd  cleric  was  not  lack- 
ing in  worldly  wisdom.  When  they  passed  two  shouting 
monks,  who  were  showing  their  naked  breasts  on  which 
they  had  branded  the  Cross,  and  whom  many  were  declar- 
ing to  be  saints  indeed,  Sebastian  had  only  the  shake  of 
the  head. 

"  They  are  blind  leaders  of  the  blind,"  was  his  comment ; 
"they  will  suffer  pains  enough  before  they  see  the  Holy 
City  to  forget  all  their  fiery  zeal.  The  kingdom  of  heaven 
is  not  to  be  won  by  tortures  inflicted  for  the  praise  of 
men." 

When  they  reached  St.  Julien,  there  was  work  for 
Richard  all  that  winter.  The  Baron  convoked  his  "Ost," 
the  fighting-men  of  the  seigneury,  and,  standing  upon  the 
great  stone  before  the  castle,  told  how  for  his  own  sins 
and  the  souls  of  his  kinsfolk  he  had  taken  the  cross  —  "  and 
who  would  go  with  him  ? "  Whereupon,  as  Sebastian  de- 
clared, "  A  new  pentecostal  fire  spread  among  the  St. 
Julieners ; "  and  so  many  cried  they  would  make  the  cru- 
sade, that  Richard  had  trouble  to  make  it  plain,  enough 
must  stay  behind  to  care  for  the  aged,  the  harvests,  and 
the  castle,  and  that  no  family  be  left  to  charity.  Up  and 
down  the  barony  went  Sebastian,  showing  his  scars  in- 
flicted by  paynims,  drawing  all  after  him.  Even  the  lord 
abbot  was  stricken  in  conscience,  confessed  his  lax  rule, 
and  wished  to  go  to  Jerusalem.  But  Sebastian  told  him 
God  were  better  pleased  to  have  him  remain  and  teach 
the  brethren  fasts  and  vigils.  Yet  to  the  fighting-men  the 
priest  had  but  one  message,  "  that  now  was  come  the  time 
for  the  righteous  to  wash  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  the 
ungodly."  And  Richard  was  busy  on  his  part  arranging 
the  seigneury,  raising  money  by  sale  of  rights  to  pig 
pasture  held  on  certain  lands,  and  more  money  by  allow- 


HOW   RICHARD   RECEIVED  GREAT  MERCY     213 

ing  a  rich  Jew,  who  dwelt  in  the  barony  and  now  wished  to 
go  to  Spain,  to  buy  his  right  of  departure ;  for  a  rich  Jew 
was  a  very  precious  possession  to  a  seigneur,  who  never 
let  him  withdraw,  with  his  wealth  —  for  a  trifle. 

Richard  was  happier  in  this  work  than  he  had  been  for 
many  a  long  day.  The  blood  of  Gilbert  de  Valmont  no 
longer  hung  heavy  on  his  soul.  Louis  de  Valmont  was 
his  friend.  He  could  look  up  into  heaven  and  see  there 
only  peace  and  mercy.  But  he  was  sad  when  his  thoughts 
ran  to  Mary  Kurkuas  and  the  many  years  that  might  speed 
before  he  could  call  her  his  bride ;  for  this  was  no  time  to 
think  of  home  and  marriage.  Even  a  greater  sadness  came 
over  him,  when  he  thought  of  Musa.  All  his  faith,  all  the 
teachings  of  Holy  Church  and  her  ministers,  left  him  only 
the  assurance  that  the  Spaniard's  soul  was  doomed  to  the 
fire  unquenchable.  This  life  so  short,  the  after-life  so  long, 
and  Musa  thus  doomed  !  Why  did  God  create  amongst  the 
unbelievers  such  high  manhood,  such  knightly  prowess, 
and  then  consign  it  all  to  the  same  torments  reserved  for 
the  utterly  wicked  ?  Yet  could  he  doubt  his  own  religion 
—  he,  the  ardent  champion  of  the  Cross,  whose  new-found 
happiness  depended  on  this  very  belief,  that  the  death  of 
infidels  was  most  pleasing  in  God's  sight  ? 

At  times  Sebastian  could  see  that  his  mind  was  still 
clouded,  and  would  say  :  — 

"•Dear  son,  do  not  hide  what  makes  your  face  so  sad." 

"At,  father,  I  am  thinking  of  Musa,  and  how  I  love  him, 
and  how  terrible  is  the  state  of  his  soul." 

"  Love  him  not,"  Sebastian  would  cry  sternly ;  "  as  for 
his  soul,  it  is  given  to  be  buffeted  of  Satan,  at  which  all 
good  Christians  should  rejoice." 

"  But  we  are  bidden  to  '  love  our  enemies,'  and  Musa  is  no 
enemy  ;  I  count  him  as  my  brother." 

Then  Sebastian  would  frown  more  fiercely  than  ever. 

"Yes,  love  'our'  enemies,  not  those  of  Holy  Church. 
Give  heed  lest  to  your  former  sins  you  add  not  a  greater — 
that  of  sinful  pity  toward  the  hated  of  God ! " 


CHAPTER   XXI 

HOW   RICHARD   RETURNED   TO    LA   HAVE 

LONG  before  Assumption  Day,  the  appointed  time  for 
setting  forth,  soon  as  the  balmy  spring  winds  blew,  all 
France  was  marching.  Not  the  great  lords  first,  —  for 
worldly  wisdom  was  plentiest  under  gilded  helmets,  —  but 
the  peasants  took  the  road  by  thousands  on  thousands. 
Day  after  day  the  long  procession  by  St.  Julien,  serpent- 
like,  trailed  on,  —  priests  and  bandits,  petty  nobles,  old 
crones  on  crutches,  little  children  on  lumbering  wagons ; 
for  weapons,  often  only  boar  spears  and  wood  axes.  "  And 
is  this  fortress  not  Jerusalem  ? "  the  children  would  often 
cry  when  they  saw  the  castle ;  and  their  fathers  and  mothers 
hardly  knew  if  they  ought  to  tell  them  nay.  Hoary  sires 
crept  along  on  their  staffs,  followed  by  sons  and  sons'  sons 
and  daughters  also.  To  each  stranger  they  would  cry: 
"  Come  !  God  wills  it !  Let  us  die  at  Jerusalem  !  "  And 
Richard's  heart  grew  sad,  knowing  they  would  indeed  die, 
but  far  from  the  Holy  City.  At  first  he  bade  the  butler 
and  cellarer  open  the  castle  vats,  and  supply  food  and 
drink  to  all ;  but  those  worthies  protested  that  three  days 
of  such  charity  would  ruin  the  fief,  and  Richard  was  forced 
to  let  the  pilgrim  hordes  roll  by,  subsisting  on  what  they 
carried  with  them.  Full  soon  their  means  would  be  at  an 
end ;  then  they  must  plunder  or  starve.  But  Longsword's 
bounty  would  have  been  only  a  drop  in  their  bucket. 

Sometimes,  however,  there  came  sturdy  bands  that  clam- 
ored at  the  castle  gate,  demanding  food. 

"  Food  ?  "  roared  old  Herbert,  one  such  day ;  "  and  have 
you  taken  nothing  in  your  wallets  ? " 

214 


HOW  RICHARD   RETURNED  TO   LA   HAVE     215 

"  No,"  quoth  a  hulking  peasant,  showing  an  empty  pouch  ; 
"  the  priests  say,  '  God  who  nourishes  the  sparrows  will  not 
let  His  dear  children  suffer  ; '  so  we  have  gone  forth  trusting 
in  His  bounty  to  feed  us." 

"  Begone !  "  cried  Sebastian,  from  behind  the  portcullis ; 
for  the  pilgrims  had  begun  to  threaten.  "  I  also  am  a 
priest,  and  say  to  you,  as  says  the  Apostle,  '  If  any  would 
not  work,  neither  should  he  eat.'  God  has  given  you  better 
wits  than  have  sparrows.  Sin  not  by  misusing  them  !  " 

But  too  often  the  rascals  fell  to  plunder,  and  reluctantly 
Richard  sallied  forth ;  slew  some,  and  hanged  others  for 
a  warning.  Very  grave  grew  Longsword  when  he  heard 
of  the  outrages  wrought  through  the  bands  led  by  Volk- 
mar  the  priest  and  Count  Emicio  in  the  Rhine  cities,  for 
he  knew  this  was  no  way  to  win  Heaven's  blessing.  "  Their 
sins  are  great,"  commented  Sebastian.  "  God  is  pleased 
to  lead  them  to  destruction."  And  of  Peter  the  Hermit, 
who  headed  a  like  band,  as  not  a  few  had  desired  Sebastian 
himself  to  do,  he  only  prophesied,  "  He  listens  to  the 
praise  of  men  ;  God  will  abase  him ! "  As  indeed  came 
true. 

So  with  the  peasants.  But  at  last  the  seigneurs  were 
moving.  Richard  rode  from  St.  Julien  with  five-and-twenty 
petty  nobles,  thrice  as  many  full-armored  men-at-arms, 
four  hundred  stout  "villains"  on  foot;  and  above  his  head 
the  great  banner  of  his  house,  St.  Julien's  white  stag  bla- 
zoned on  a  red  field.  The  baron's  heart  was  gay  when  he 
saw  the  long  line  of  casques  and  lances.  But  beside  them 
trailed  a  weeping  company ;  old  men  and  women,  who 
went  a  little  way,  making  a  long  farewell. 

"Ah,  sweet  lord,"  the  pretty  maids  would  cry,  "how 
long  will  it  be,  ere  you  ride  back  with  Peter  and  Anselm 
and  Hugo  ? "  and  so  with  fifty  more,  wailing  out  the 
name  of  husband,  brother,  or  sweetheart.  Then  Richard 
would  bang  Trenchefer  in  a  way  to  hearten  the  most  tim- 
orous, and  swear,  "  In  two  years  you  shall  see  them  all 
again,  and  I  will  make  every  good  man-at-arms  a  knight ! " 
So  when  the  women  saw  his  bold,  brave  face,  they  took 
courage.  But  there  were  tears  and  to  spare,  when  they 


216  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

came-  to  the  last  wayside  cross,  and  Herbert  went  down 
the  line,  calling  gruffly  to  every  man  and  maid  not  bound 
for  Jerusalem  to  drop  from  the  ranks.  So  the  lines  were 
closed,  and  the  long  files  of  helmets  and  hauberks  went 
over  the  mountain  side.  Many  an  eye  went  back  to  the 
groups  of  red,  blue,  and  yellow  clustered  round  the  cross ; 
and  many  an  eye  was  wet  that  had  been  seldom  wet  be- 
fore, as  they  saw  tottering  old  Bosso,  Sebastian's  vicar  in 
the  parish,  hold  up  the  crucifix,  and  all  the  bright  gowns 
bend  in  prayer.  But  none  fell  from  the  ranks,  no  step 
lagged. 

Richard  nodded  to  Theroulde,  whose  mule  was  plodding 
beside  Rollo.  The  jongleur  clapped  his  viol  to  his  shoul- 
der; the  trumpets  blew ;  the  kettledrums  boomed  until  the 
crags  echoed ;  and  then  once  more  the  shout  went  down 
the  lines  as  so  many  times  before  :  "  God  wills  it !  To 
Jerusalem !  "  Whereupon  the  drums  thundered  faster,  the 
feet  twinkled  more  nimbly.  When  they  came  to  the  pass 
of  the  mountains,  Richard  ordered  no  halt;  but  he  drew 
rein  on  Rollo,  and  let  the  column  swing  past.  Each  man 
cast  one  glance  over  his  shoulder;  louder  the  viols,  the 
trumpets,  the  drums;  again  the  cry:  "God  wills  it!  To 
Jerusalem !  "  Richard  saw  the  backs  of  the  last  rank  and 
turned  his  gaze  toward  the  valley.  There  it  lay  • —  fair  as 
when,  nigh  a  year  before,  he  had  seen  it  from  that  same 
hillside,  crowned  with  the  bursting  summer.  He  could  see 
the  tower  of  the  great  keep,  the  abbey,  the  village  —  all. 
And  in  that  year  what  had  not  befallen !  His  grandfather 
dead  ;  Raoul  de  Valmont  dead  ;  Gilbert  de  Valmont  dead  ; 
ah!  pity, his  father, mother,  brother — all  dead;  and  his  sister 
worse  than  dead !  And  yet  the  sky  could  be  blue,  and  God 
sit  calm  above  it,  despite  the  wickedness  of  His  children! 
Richard's  shield-strap  had  slipped  ;  in  readjusting  it  he  saw 
his  face  in  the  bright  steel,  clear  as  a  mirror,  and  he  knew 
lines  of  pain  and  grim  resolve  and  deathly  battle  were  marked 
thereon  that  would  never  in  this  world  be  smoothed  away. 
Yet  he  was  the  same :  the  same  debonair  young  knight 
who  had  laughed  when  he  looked  upon  this  valley,  and 
vowed  it  should  all  be  one  love-bower  for  Mary  Kur- 


kuas.  And  now  he  was  the  stern  Baron  of  St.  Julien,  at 
whose  nod  five  hundred  fighting-men  trembled ;  who  had 
blood  on  his  hands,  and,  merciful  saints,  more  blood  on 
his  soul,  even  if  the  sin  were  absolved  !  Mary,  the  soft, 
sweet  life  in  Cefalu,  the  sunlit  dreams  of  one  short  year 
ago,  of  love,  of  bright  tourneys,  of  victories  won  without  a 
pang  —  where  were  they  now  ? 

As  he  turned,  he  saw  Sebastian  riding  his  palfrey  beside 
Rollo.  "  Ah,  dear  father,"  said  the  Norman,  half  sadly, 
"  this  is  a  pleasant  country  to  leave  behind.  Is  Palestine, 
even  with  Jerusalem,  more  fair  than  Auvergne  ?  When 
we  have  taken  the  Holy  City,  we  will  return,  and  I  will 
pray  the  Lord  Pope  to  make  St.  Julien  a  bishopric,  and 
you  shall  be  the  sanctissimus  of  the  country-side ! " 

Sebastian  smiled  at  this  forced  banter. 

"  Dear  son,"  said  he,  "this  is  indeed  a  fair  country,  as 
I  said  when  a  year  ago  we  first  saw  it  from  this  height. 
But  something  in  my  heart  says  to  me :  '  Sebastian,  God  is 
hearkening  to  your  prayers.  Your  journey  in  this  evil 
world  will  some  day  end.  After  you  have  seen  the  Cross 
victorious  on  the  walls  of  the  earthly  Zion,  then  you  shall 
straightway  behold  the  heavenly.'  Therefore  I  shall  never 
see  St.  Julien  again." 

"  These  are  fancies,  father,"  said  the  knight,  laying  his 
heavy  hand  affectionately  on  the  priest's  tonsured  head  ; 
"you  shall  live  to  a  yet  riper  age.  You  shall  see  the  Holy 
City  purged  of  infidels.  Then  at  last  it  will  be  no  sin  to 
fulfil  my  dream.  Here  in  St.  Julien  Mary  Kurkuas  and  I 
will  dwell,  and  you  beside  us ;  and  if  God  bless  us  with 
children,  what  greater  joy  for  you  than  to  teach  them  all 
things,  as  you  have  taught  me,  and  make  them  tenfold 
better  (Christ  pity  me!)  than  their  father." 

"  Yes,  sweet  lad,"  replied  Sebastian,  gently,  "  that  would 
indeed  be  joy  ;  but  the  will  of  Our  Lord  be  done.  And 
now  let  us  be  about  His  business."  Whereupon  he  turned 
his  palfrey.  Richard  cast  one  glance  over  mountain,  valley, 
tower,  and  farm-land  —  a  vision  never  to  fade  ;  then  :  — 

"  Come,  Rollo  !  "  he  urged,  and  flew  after  the  column. 
The  music  crashed  ever  faster ;  the  marching  men  raised 


2i8  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

a  mad  war-song  ;  Richard's  voice  rose  above  them  all.  As 
they  sang,  they  struck  the  downward  slope,  and  the  crags 
hid  St.  Julien. 

Southward  they  marched  ;  for  the  Auvergners  went  in 
company  with  Raymond  of  Toulouse,  by  the  southern 
route  across  Italy,  though  Richard  would  have  desired  the 
German  route  with  Godfrey.  At  Orange  the  Norman  met 
the  great  Count  of  Toulouse  and  St.  Gilles,  —  a  tall,  haughty 
man,  with  flowing  silver  hair  and  beard ;  brusque  to  stran- 
gers, but  underneath  the  sternness  a  high-minded  Christian 
soul.  With  him  was  his  handsome  and  valiant  friend,  Vis- 
count Gaston  of  Beam,  a  winsome  cavalier  who  became 
Longsword's  close  friend.  At  Orange  Richard  rejoined 
the  band  with  Raymond  of  Agiles,  Toulouse's  chaplain, 
and  found  Louis  de  Valmont.  On  that  spot  was  cemented 
a  long-time  friendship,  to  be  ended  only  after  they  had  all 
seen  deeds,  knight  or  cleric  had  never  dreamt  before. 

But  while  the  host  lay  at  Orange,  Richard's  heart  was 
elsewhere ;  presently  there  came  a  letter  that  set  him  to 
mount  and  ride  right  quickly. 

"  Mary  Kurkuas,  to  her  sweet  lord  Richard :  kisses  and 
greetings  more  than  words  may  tell. 

"  DEAR  HEART  :  I  have  heard  all  from  Musa,  and  I  may 
not  write  how  my  heart  is  torn  for  you.  The  fiends  have 
been  many  in  your  soul,  have  tempted  you  grievously,  and 
you  have  fallen.  Do  you  think  I  shrink  from  you,  that  I 
bless  the  saints  I  am  not  yet  your  wife  and  can  escape  a 
hateful  bond  ?  Sweet  life,  —  love  is  not  made  of  such  feeble 
stuff !  You  do  well  to  go  to  Jerusalem,  but  will  you  go 
without  one  word,  one  look  ?  I  have  somewhat  to  say  to 
you,  which  can  only  pass  when  face  to  face.  Come  to 
La  Haye.  Musa  tells  me  I  am  still  as  beautiful  as  at 
Palermo,  and  I  hope  in  your  eyes  also  this  will  prove  true. 
I  think  my  words,  songs,  and  love  will  not  make  you  a 
meaner  soldier  for  Christ.  To  Him  you  belong  first,  but 
after  Him  to  me.  Ride  swiftly,  for  I  sit  watching  to  see 
Rollo  coming  down  the  castle  road  bearing  my  own  true 
love.  So  come.  Farewell." 


HOW   RICHARD   RETURNED  TO   LA  HAVE     219 

Whereupon,  when  Richard  read,  all  his  resolution  to  go 
through  Provence,  turning  to  neither  right  hand  nor  left, 
sped  from  him  as  dust  before  the  south  wind.  To  his 
surprise  Sebastian  did  not  oppose. 

"  Dear  son,"  said  the  churchman,  "  love  is  of  God.  There 
is  a  love  of  man  to  woman ;  a  love  of  man  to  the  Most 
High ;  happy  are  they  to  whom  the  higher  and  lesser  are 
at  one." 

"  But  in  former  days  you  did  not  smile  on  my  suit  to 
Mary." 

"Verily,"  said  Sebastian,  while  Herbert  made  the  horses 
ready,  "  I  saw  in  it  the  hand  of  Satan  to  prevent  you  from 
going  to  the  Holy  City.  But  now  that  you  have  taken  the 
great  vow,  and  I  see  in  your  face  that  you  are  strong,  I 
have  no  fear.  Yet  remember,  your  duty  is  to  God,  and 
not  to  women ;  when  you  ride  toward  Palestine,  do  not 
leave  your  soul  snared  in  a  silken  net  in  Provence." 

"  Ah,"  cried  Richard,  "  you  know  not  what  you  say. 
Did  you  ever  have  love  for  a  pure  and  beautiful  maid  ? " 

Sebastian's  face  was  very  grave. 

"  Many  things  have  befallen  in  my  life,  God  is  lengthen- 
ing my  days.  In  the  years  of  my  youth  —  what  may  not 
have  happened  ?  But  she  died  —  she  was  very  young;  so 
was  I.  I  have  mastered  all  earthly  lusts,  praise  be  to 
God ! " 

And  this  was  the  only  word  Richard  had  ever  heard 
Sebastian  speak,  of  what  befell  him  before  he  entered  the 
monastery,  and  the  long  shadows  of  his  life's  renunciation 
fell  over  him.  But  of  more  moment  was  the  speech  Rich- 
ard had  with  Herbert,  as  they  rode  along. 

"  I  marvel  that  no  mention  was  made  in  the  letter  of  the 
messages  I  sent  to  La  Haye,  to  warn  against  that  dark- 
faced  devil,  Zeyneb." 

Herbert  fell  into  a  long  study,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  way 
that  was  gliding  by  under  their  merry  canter. 

"The  roads  were  safe.  All  the  brigands  have  left  their 
lairs  to  go  to  Jerusalem  —  ha!" — this,  with  a  sly  grunt 
and  chuckle.  "  However,  if  my  lady  writes  thus  three 
days  since,  nothing  has  befallen." 


220  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

"  True,"  replied  the  Baron,  spurring  Rollo  more  hotly, 
"  yet  as  I  think  of  it,  I  begin  to  misdoubt.  Iftikhar  Eddau- 
leh  is  of  that  accursed  brotherhood  amongst  the  infidels 
—  the  Ismaelians.  Their  guile  reaches  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth.  Twice  he  has  sought  my  life,  and  only  St.  Michael 
saved  me.  I  would  I  could  see  that  Zeyneb  dancing  at  a 
rope's  end." 

"  The  rope  or  the  axe  will  be  his  confessor  at  last !  " 
muttered  Herbert ;  then  they  all  rode  harder. 

When  Richard  came  within  sight  of  the  towers  of  the 
castle  of  La  Haye,  not  even  Rollo's  mighty  stride  made  the 
ground  speed  swift  enough.  All  around  stretched  the  vine- 
yards and  orchard  bowers  of  the  pleasant  South  Country ; 
the  wind  blew  softly  over  great  fields  of  blossoms;  the  peas- 
ant and  wayfarer  trudged  on  peacefully  with  no  sword  at 
his  side,  and  feared  not  raid  nor  robbers,  for  safety  and 
ease  reigned  everywhere  in  fair  Provence."  When  they 
drew  near  to  the  castle,  they  could  see  a  score  of  bright 
banners  tossing  on  the  rampart,  while  a  great  crash  of  music 
greeted  them;  for  the  Baron  of  La  Haye  was  a  valiant 
troubadour,  and  kept  as  mwoy  jonglfnrs  as  grooms.  But 
what  cared  Richard  ?  As  he  thundered  up  the  way  to  the 
drawbridge,  he  reined  in  Rollo  short,  was  out  of  the  saddle, 
and  his  arms  were  about  some  one  in  white  that  had  run 
from  the  orchard  to  greet  him.  And  he  felt  a  soft  breath 
on  his  cheeks,  soft  hands  in  his  hands,  soft  words  in  his 
ear ;  and  his  own  words  came  so  fast,  they  would  scarce 
come  at  all.  Then  he  knew  that  all  the  castle  folk  were 
standing  by,  smiling  and  laughing  in  friendly  manner. 
Soon  Baron  Hardouin  came  down  and  gave  him  a  stately 
speech,  after  the  best  courtesy  of  the  South  Country ;  and 
Richard,  holding  Mary's  hand  in  his  own,  looked  upon  all 
about,  and  spoke  out  boldly :  "  Fair  lord  and  good  people, 
I  have  no  skill  in  speech,  but  this  I  say  :  the  Princess  Mary 
Kurkuas  is  the  fairest  and  noblest  maiden  in  all  the  earth, 
and  to  him  who  says  me  nay,  I  will  make  it  good  upon 
my  body."  Whereupon  he  half  drew  Trenchefer,  but  all 
cried  out,  "Long  life  to  the  valiant  Baron  de  St.  Julien! 
long  life  to  our  fairest  princess  !  "  And  Richard  went  into 


HOW   RICHARD  RETURNED  TO   LA  HAVE      221 

the  castle  with  his  head  in  the  air,  seeing  only  one  face  out 
of  the  many,  and  that  very  close  to  his  own. 

Only  when  Hardouin  had  feasted  his  guest,  and  had 
made  him  listen  to  a  dozen  jongleurs  and  their  minstrelsy, 
Richard  found  himself  alone  with  Mary  in  the  castle 
orchard,  just  as  the  long  afternoon  was  spreading  out  the 
shadows.  They  sat  on  the  turf,  with  a  gnarled  old  apple 
tree  rustling  above  them.  All  around  the  bees  were  hum- 
ming over  the  roses  ;  the  birds  were  just  beginning  to  carol 
the  evening.  Then  the  question  was,  "  And  where  is 
Musa  ?  " 

Whereupon  Mary  answered :  "  He  is  gone  forth  hawk- 
ing ;  for,  said  he,  '  I  think  Richard  will  come  to-day ;  and 
though  I  am  his  brother,  there  are  hours  when  even  broth- 
ers are  better  loved  afar  off.' ' 

"  What  a  noble  soul  he  is,"  said  Richard,  his  eyes  wan- 
dering dreamily  up  into  the  waving  canopy  of  green  ;  "  how 
often  I  wonder  that  he  has  never  courted  you,  nor  you  given 
him  favor.  Almost  I  love  him  too  well  for  jealousy." 

"  But  not  I !  "  cried  the  Greek,  firing;  then  with  a  laugh: 
"  See,  your  eyes  are  open  wide,  for  you  are  fearful  lest  I 
take  your  words  in  earnest.  Ah,  dear  life,  I  can  love  but 
one  ;  and  with  you  my  heart  is  a  full  cup.  Yet  to  Musa  I 
would  give  aught  else  —  all  but  love.  Yet  fear  him  not. 
He  is  the  most  generous  of  men.  Often  as  we  have  been 
together,  his  talk  has  been  of  you,  —  praising  you  after  his 
Arab  fashion,  till  even  I  cry  out  at  him,  '  Richard  Long- 
sword  is  a  wondrous  knight,  yet  not  so  wondrous  as  you 
make  him ! '  Then  he  will  laugh  and  say,  '  In  my  eyes 
there  was  never  Moslem  or  Christian  a  greater  cavalier 
than  my  brother.' " 

"  So  he  has  been  at  La  Haye  all  the  winter  ? " 

"Yes;  he  sent  away  your  Saracens  to  Sicily;  and  I 
need  not  tell  the  shifts  he  had  to  save  their  skins,  such 
was  the  cry  against  infidels  in  all  the  country.  But  here 
in  Provence,  where  there  are  so  many  Jews  and  unbeliev- 
ers, not  to  speak  of  the  Cathari  and  other  heretics  that  are 
so  strong,  a  Moslem  knight  may  dwell  without  annoy ;  for 
I  fear  my  uncle  —  "  and  she  fetched  a  sigh  —  "likes  his 


222  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

troubadours  and  courts  of  love  too  well  to  leave  them  for 
the  war  of  the  Holy  City." 

But  at  the  mention  of  Jerusalem  Richard's  brow  grew 
dark. 

"  Dear  heart,"  said  he,  "  what  madness  to  come  to  La 
Haye!  How  may  I  lift  eyes  to  you,  when  I  belong  to  the 
cause  of  Christ;  and  what  time  is  this  for  marriage  and  giv- 
ing in  marriage !  And  if  God  grants  that  I  return  alive 
from  Palestine,  —  and  well  I  know  the  dangers,  if  some  do 
not,  —  how  many  years  for  you  must  it  be  of  weary  wait- 
ing—  years  plucked  out  of  the  joyousness  of  your  own 
dear  life !  Ah,  sweetest  of  the  sweet,  I  hold  your  hand 
now,  and  see  heaven  in  your  eyes.  But  I  know  you  would 
not  have  me  always  thus ;  we  cannot  sit  beneath  the  trees 
forever." 

"  No,  my  beloved,"  said  the  Greek,  very  softly,  "  this 
is  no  time  for  marriage  or  giving  in  marriage ;  yet  — ' 
and  she  spoke  still  more  softly  —  "  shall  I  not  go  with  you, 
to  nurse  the  wounded,  and  give  cold  water  to  the  sick ;  to 
lay  a  cool  hand  on  you  —  thus  —  if  you  are  very  weary  or 
tempted  ?  Are  there  no  noble  ladies  who  go  with  the 
army,  —  the  Countess  of  Toulouse,  the  wife  of  Baldwin, 
brother  of  great  Duke  Godfrey,  and  many  more  ?  And 
shall  I  not  be  one  ?  Listen :  my  sins  too  are  very  great ; 
yes,"  —  for  Richard  was  raising  a  hand  in  protest ;  "  I  am 
too  fond  of  the  pomps  and  praise  of  this  world,  and  my 
heart  too  often  will  not  bow  to  the  will  of  God.  For  my 
own  sins  and  for  the  sins  of  him  I  love  better  than  self,  I 
would  pray  at  the  tomb  of  Our  Lord.  Yet  I  cannot  fly 
out  alone  —  a  poor  defenceless  song-bird,  amongst  all  the 
crows  and  hawks.  Therefore  I  have  sent  to  you,  that  you 
might  hear  me  say  this,  '  Let  us  be  wedded  by  the  priest 
full  soon,  for  the  Holy  Father  has  forbidden  unprotected 
maids  to  go  to  Jerusalem ;  but  let  us  not  be  to  each  other 
truly  as  husband  or  wife  until  the  Sacred  City  is  taken, 
and  we  can  kneel  side  by  side  at  the  Holy  Sepulchre." 

Richard  had  risen,  and  as  he  stood  he  held  Mary's 
hands  in  his  own,  and  looked  straight  into  her  eyes. 

"  Dear  life,"  cried  he,   "  do  you  know  what  you  say  ? 


1 '  HOW    MAY    I    LIFT    EYES   TO   YOU    WHEN    I    BELONG   TO   THE   CAUSE 
OF   CHRIST  ?'" 


HOW  RICHARD   RETURNED  TO   LA   HAVE      223 

Peril,  toil,  hardships,  —  yes,  death  even,  and  worse  than 
death,  —  captivity  —  all  these  may  await !  And  is  your 
little  body  strong  enough  for  the  long,  long  way  to 
Jerusalem?" 

"  It  is,  Richard,"  said  she,  looking  back  into  his  face 
with  a  sweet,  grave  smile ;  "  how  I  wish  I  could  do  some- 
thing very  great,  only  to  show  my  love  for  you ! " 

He  was  bending  over  to  snatch  her  in  his  arms ;  her 
hair  was  touching  his  cheek ;  when  Mary  shrank  back  with 
a  frightened  scream  :  — 

"  Richard !  " 

And  before  the  other  word  could  pass  her  lips,  a  strange 
misshapen  form  had  darted  from  under  the  tree.  A  flash 
on  bright  steel,  a  cry,  a  stroke — but  at  that  stroke  Mary 
snatched  at  the  wrist,  caught,  held  an  instant. 

"  The  jinns  curse  you ! "  the  hiss,  and  Mary  felt  the 
wrist  whisk  like  air  from  her  hands.  Another  stroke, 
Richard  half  reeled.  There  was  the  click  of  steel  on 
steel.  A  second  curse,  and  the  assailant  ghost-like  was 
gliding  amongst  the  orchard  trees.  Longsword  was  still 
staring,  trembling,  reaching  for  Trenchefer ;  but  Mary 
gave  a  loud  cry.  And  at  that  cry,  lo !  Musa  was  swing- 
ing from  his  saddle,  and  grasping  in  no  gentle  grip  the 
cloak  of  the  dwarf  Zeyneb. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

HOW   RICHARD  PARTED    WITH    HIS   BROTHER 

THE  dwarf  was  writhing,  twisting,  biting  with  long,  ven- 
omous teeth,  but  the  grasp  of  the  Spaniard  was  as  steel. 
His  eye  was  not  on  his  captive,  but  on  Richard. 

"  Wallah  !  "  was  his  greeting,  "  are  you  wounded  ? " 

Richard  stood  erect,  his  hand  at  his  side. 

"Again  you  have  saved  me.  The  Valencia  shirt  was 
proof  once  more."  Musa  was  advancing,  dragging  Zeyneb, 
who  still  struggled,  but  helpless  as  a  mouse  in  a  cat's 
mouth. 

The  Spaniard  picked  up  the  dagger  that  lay  on  the 
grass,  and  frowned  darkly  when  his  eye  fell  on  the  edge. 

"Poison,"  was  his  biting  comment.  "I  did  indeed  sup- 
pose Iftikhar  Eddauleh  could  at  least  trust  to  clean  steel, 
even  if  he  must  place  it  in  the  claws  of  such  vermin  as 
this !  " 

And  he  shook  the  dwarf  till  the  latter  howled  with 
mortal  fright.  Mary,  now  that  the  shock  was  past  and 
the  danger  sped,  was  calling  out  to  all  the  saints  amid 
hysteric  laughter  and  crying,  and  Richard,  too,  felt  very 
strangely — thrice  now  his  life  had  thus  been  sought. 

Musa's  fingers  knit  round  the  dwarf's  wretched  neck, 
and  he  seemed  to  find  joy  in  watching  the  latter's  agony. 

"  Beard  of  the  Prophet !  "  he  repeated,  "  Iftikhar  shall 
wait  long  before  he  find  another  such  servant !  " 

"  Guard,  hold  fast !  "  admonished  Richard.  "  Surely  the 
fiends  aid  him ;  he  escaped  Louis  de  Valmont's  grasp  as 
by  magic." 

"  He  will  need  a  stouter  spell  to-day,  by  the  glory  of 
Allah !  "  retorted  Musa.  The  dwarf  at  last  found  tongue. 

224 


HOW   RICHARD   PARTED   WITH   HIS   BROTHER     225 

"  Laugh  now,  my  masters,  and  you,  my  lady ;  but  you 
shall  all  whistle  otherwise  ere  you  hear  the  last  of  poor 
Zeyneb." 

The  Spaniard  laughed  scornfully. 

"  Aye,  truly,"  declared  he,  "  you  are  like  to  live  many 
days,  my  merry  sir,  after  your  feat  just  now." 

The  dwarf  only  hung  down  his  head,  while  all  around 
them  swarmed  the  castle  folk  talking  each  at  once,  and 
making  a  mighty  din.  Baron  Hardouin  sent  his  niece 
away  with  her  maids,  to  have  her  temples  bathed  in  strong 
waters,  for  snow  was  no  whiter  than  her  cheeks.  But 
four  sturdy  men-at-arms  haled  Zeyneb  within  the  castle, 
and  then  the  Baron  blew  out  on  him  his  fury.  He  should 
be  torn  by  wild  horses,  fed  to  the  bloodhounds,  grilled  over 
hot  coals ;  and  any  other  device  for  leaving  this  world  in 
an  agony  was  told  over  to  him.  Zeyneb  did  not  stir. 
After  his  first  howl  and  rage,  he  only  blinked  sharply  out 
of  his  little  black  eyes  and  twisted  his  lips.  But  when 
Richard  asked  the  Baron  if  he  had  received  no  letter  con- 
cerning the  attempt  at  Clermont,  the  dwarf  broke  forth  in 
French. 

"  He  has  not,  Cid  Richard,  and  with  good  reason.  I 
met  your  messenger  and  killed  him." 

"  Killed  him  !  "  the  word  went  round  the  circle  with  a 
shiver,  through  braver  hearts  than  those  of  the  maids ;  for 
there  was  an  uncanny  light  in  the  hunchback's  eye,  that 
made  the  boldest  chary. 

"  Assuredly,"  continued  Zeyneb,  holding  up  his  hands. 
"  I  met  him  on  the  road,  a  simple  fellow  ;  it  was  dark  ;  he 
could  not  recognize  ;  the  dagger  passed  under  the  fifth  rib  ; 
he  gave  one  cry." 

"  Maledicte ! "  exclaimed  Sebastian,  crossing  himself. 
"  Have  we  here  the  very  devil  in  human  guise  ?  " 

"  Be  he  man  or  devil,"  protested  Hardouin,  with  a  great 
oath,  "  he  shall  find  the  pit  more  joysome  than  the  dun- 
geons of  La  Have." 

"  Pardon,"  replied  Zeyneb,  looking  about  unflinchingly, 
and  speaking  very  good  Languedoc.     "  You  will  find  you 
have  no  power  at  all.     You  cannot  slay  me —  " 
Q 


226  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  Cannot  ? "  flew  from  Hardouin. 

"  Truly,"  was  the  calm  answer.  "  All  things  are  in  the 
hand  of  God.  Without  His  will  you  can  do  nothing." 

"  Silence,  blasphemer  !  "  thundered  Sebastian,  smiting 
the  dwarf  on  the  mouth.  "  Who  are  you  to  utter  God's 
name  ? " 

"  I  ? "  retorted  Zeyneb,  a  little  proudly,  holding  up  his 
head.  "  I  ?  Know,  Christian,  that  we  Ismaelians  are 
chosen  by  God  Himself  to  execute  His  will.  Our  sovereign 
here  below  says  to  us,  '  Do  this,'  and  we  do  it,  knowing 
that  no  harm  can  befall,  save  as  it  is  foreordained  by  the 
Most  High." 

"Away!  Away  to  the  dungeon!"  raged  Hardouin; 
"  to-morrow  you  shall  have  cause  to  remember  your 
sins ! " 

Strong  hands  were  on  Zeyneb's  shoulders,  but  he  almost 
writhed  out  of  them,  and  stood  before  Richard. 

"  Ya  !  Cid  Richard ;  thrice  now  have  I  sought  your  end- 
ing. Well  —  Allah  preserves  you  !  Sometimes  death  is 
sweeter  than  life.  Would  you  have  me  tell  of  what  befell 
at  Cef alu  ?  I  saw  your  mother  die,  your  brother,  your 
father,  your  sister  —  " 

"Away!"  roared  Longsword,  "or  I  shall  kill  him,  and 
he  will  escape  too  mercifully." 

The  men-at-arms  tugged  Zeyneb  down  the  dark  stairs. 
Herbert  had  him  very  tightly  by  the  scruff. 

"At,  my  dear  fellow,"  the  veteran  was  croaking,  "tell 
me  why  you  were  at  La  Haye  after  your  adventure  at 
Clermont." 

"  Because  I  knew  your  master  would  come  hither  as  sure 
as  a  dog  sniffs  out  a  bone.  My  lord  Iftikhar  had  said  to 
me,  '  See  that  Richard  Longsword  troubles  no  longer,'  and 
I  had  bowed  and  answered,  'Yes,  master,  on  my  head.' 
Therefore  I  came  to  Auvergne,  and  when  Allah  did  not 
favor,  to  Provence." 

"Where  Allah  has  mightily  favored!"  chuckled  the 
man-at-arms. 

"  //"///,  fellow,"  grunted  a  second  guard,  "  I  have  seen 
you  before  lurking  about.  By  the  Mass,  I  wish  then  I 


HOW  RICHARD   PARTED  WITH   HIS  BROTHER     227 

had  slit  your  weasand."  And  the  grasp  on  Zeyneb  tight- 
ened. 

"  I  owe  you  no  grudge,  gentle  Franks,"  quoth  the  dwarf, 
as  they  pushed  back  the  door  of  a  cell  that  was  all  dust 
and  murk.  "  Allah  requite  you  !  Greet  Richard  Longsword 
and  the  right  noble  Mary  Kurkuas ;  I  shall  meet  both,  I 
trust,  in  Palestine,  whither  they  wish  to  go." 

"  Ha !  "  growled  Herbert,  driving  him  in  with  a  mighty 
kick.  "  To-morrow,  to-morrow ! — Double  fetter !  Remem- 
ber your  good  deeds,  if  you  have  any." 

And  so  they  left  him  ;  yet  Herbert,  for  all  his  jests,  could 
not  shake  off  the  strange  horror  that  smote  him  when  he 
recalled  the  dwarf's  gleaming  black  eyes,  and  that  direful 
laugh. 

Richard  had  gone  to  Mary,  who  was  lying  in  the  ladies' 
bower,  a  long,  brightly  tapestried  chamber,  with  here  and 
there  a  tier  of  saints  or  knights  in  stiff,  shadeless  fresco. 
The  couch  lay  by  the  grated  window  that  commanded  a 
broad  sweep  of  the  fair  land.  As  he  entered,  one  of  the 
maids  rose  from  beside  her  mistress,  bearing  away  the  silver 
bowl  of  lavender  water.  Mary's  long  brown  hair  lay  scat- 
tered over  the  silken  pillows,  the  sun  making  dark  gold  of 
every  tress.  She  was  pale ;  but  smiling,  and  very  happy. 

Richard  knelt  and  spoke  not  a  word,  while  he  put  the 
soft  hair  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it.  Then  he  said  gently :  — 

"  Ah !  sweet  life,  I  feel  all  unworthy  of  so  great  a 
mercy.  And  it  was  you  that  saved  me !  " 

"  I !  "  cried  Mary,  starting. 

"  By  St.  Michael,  yes.  For  the  dagger  was  aimed  at 
my  throat,  where  the  mail  did  not  guard.  Had  you  not 
seized,  I  should  long  since  have  needed  no  physician.  But 
it  is  not  this  which  now  gives  me  fear.  Zeyneb  is  a  terri- 
ble dwarf.  To-morrow  he  shall  have  cause  to  mourn  his 
sins.  But  if  you  go  with  me  to  Palestine,  you  go  to  cer- 
tain danger.  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  I  learn,  is  a  great  man 
in  Syria.  Of  this  Ismaelian  brotherhood  I  know  very 
little ;  but  if  their  daggers  can  reach  even  to  France,  what 
is  not  their  might  in  the  East  ?  I  may  see  a  day  when  no 
ring-shirt  may  save  me.  Yet  their  power  I  do  not  fear ; 


228  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

for  it  is  no  great  thing  to  die,  were  it  I  only,  and  absolved 
of  soul.  But  think,  if  in  the  chance  of  war  or  of  plotting, 
you  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  Iftikhar !  Death  once 
past  would  be  joy  for  a  dear  saint  like  you,  whom  Our 
Lord  would  stand  ready  to  welcome ;  but  a  living  death 
—  captivity,  life-long,  to  the  emir  —  dear  God,  forbid  the 
thought !  Yet  there  is  danger." 

Mary  had  risen  from  the  couch.  She  was  still  very 
pale  ;  what  with  her  flowing  hair,  and  her  bare  white  neck, 
Richard  had  never  seen  her  more  beautiful. 

"  Richard  Longsword,"  said  she,  slowly,  "  I  have  said  I 
wish  to  do  something  very  great  to  show  how  much  I  love 
you.  Well,  —  I  am  a  soldier's  daughter.  Manuel  Kur- 
kuas  was  no  mean  cavalier  in  his  day,  though  you  frown 
on  us  Greeks.  My  fathers  and  fathers'  fathers  have 
fought  back  Moslem,  and  Bulgar,  and  Persian,  and  Sclave. 
I  am  of  their  blood.  And  will  you  fright  me  with  a  '  per- 
haps '  ?  Let  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  lay  his  snares,  and  whis- 
per to  his  dagger-men;  I  think  Trenchefer "  —  with  a 
proud  glance  at  the  iron  figure  before  her,  and  the  great 
sword  —  "and  he  who  wields  it  a  sure  bulwark." 

"  Sweetest  of  the  sweet,"  said  Richard,  laying  his  great 
hands  on  her  smooth  shoulders,  "  something  tells  me 
there  may  be  great  sorrow  in  store.  I  know  not  why. 
God  knows  I  have  had  grief  and  chastening  enough.  Yet 
I  still  have  dread." 

"And  I,"  said  Mary,  gently,  lifting  her  eyes,  "know 
that  so  long  as  Richard  Longsword  keeps  the  pure  and 
spotless  knight  of  Holy  Church,  whatever  may  befall,  I 
can  have  no  great  woe  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  the  Norman,  his  eyes  meeting  hers,  "  you 
speak  well,  pure  saint.  For  without  you,  the  fiends  will 
tear  me  unceasing,  and  with  you  beside  I  may  indeed  look 
to  heaven.  You  shall  go ;  without  you  I  am  very  full  of 
sin ! " 

He  bent  and  kissed  her.  It  was  the  pledge  of  love, 
more  pure,  more  deep,  than  ever  had  thrilled  in  him 
before. 

"  Ai,  dear  heart,"  he  said,  holding  her  from  him  that  he 


HOW   RICHARD   PARTED   WITH    HIS   BROTHER     229 

might  see  the  evening  light  on  her  face,  "  in  Sicily  I  loved 
you  for  your  bright  eyes ;  but  now  —  I  love  that  in  you 
which  is  within, —  so  far  within  that  no  jongleur  may  see, 
to  sing  its  praise." 

That  night  Baron  Hardouin  and  Herbert  slept  on  the 
gentle  pleasures  they  had  prepared  for  Zeyneb,  the  dwarf ; 
but  in  the  morning  Aimer  the  seneschal  came  to  his  lord 
with  a  face  long  as  a  sculptured  saint. 

"  The  paynim  dwarf  !  "  was  his  trembling  whisper;  "  he 
is  gone ! " 

"  Gone  !  "  cried  Hardouin,  dropping  the  hawk's  hood  in 
his  hand. 

"  Truly,  my  Baron,"  continued  the  worthy,  "  this  morn- 
ing, as  we  went  to  the  dungeon,  behold !  Girart,  the  guard, 
was  stretched  on  the  floor  dead,  as  I  am  a  sinful  man ! " 

"Fellow  —  fellow  —  "  broke  out  the  nobleman,  begin- 
ning to  quake. 

"  Art-magic,  and  direct  presence  of  Satan,  it  must  have 
been,"  moaned  the  seneschal,  wringing  his  hands.  "  Girart 
was  ever  a  sleepy  knave  ;  yet  the  infidel  had  slipped  off  his 
fetters.  The  lock  was  all  pried  asunder,  and  Girart's  head 
beaten  in,  as  though  by  a  bit  of  iron,  while  he  snored." 

"  Mary,  ever  Virgin ! "  swore  the  Baron,  crossing  him- 
self. "  Shall  the  devil  go  up  and  down  in  my  own  castle  ? 
Out,  men,  boys,  varlets,  all !  scour  the  country !  send  riders 
to  all  the  seigneurs  about!  " 

And  so  they  did,  more  thoroughly  than  ever  in  the  camp 
at  Clermont ;  but  again  the  dwarf  had  melted  out  of  human 
ken.  True,  when  the  messengers  went  as  far  as  Marseilles, 
they  heard  a  vague  story  that  a  dark-skinned  hunchback 
had  embarked  on  a  merchantman  of  Cyprus ;  but  even 
this  tale  lacked  verification,  and  the  simplest  and  most  sat- 
isfactory account  was  that  of  old  Nicole,  the  gate-keeper's 
wife,  who  protested  by  St.  Jude  that  she  had  seen  two 
horrible  red  dogs  creeping  around  the  barriers  just  as  she 
went  to  bed,  —  sure  sign  of  the  presence  of  the  dreadful 
devil  Cahu,  who  was  on  hand  to  rescue  his  votary. 

Only  some  days  after,  a  groom  found  scratched  on  the 


230  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

stones  of  the  castle's  outer  wall  this  inscription  in  Arabic : 
"  To  Cid  Richard :  three  times  are  not  four.  There  is  a 
dagger  that  may  pierce  armor  of  Andalus.  Remember." 
And  below  this,  the  rude  sign  of  a  poignard  encircled  by  a 
noose. 

"  The  token  of  the  Ismaelians,"  commented  Musa,  when 
he  read  it.  "  Allah  grant  that  the  boast  prove  as  vain  as 
his  earlier  strokes !  Yet  I  would  you  were  going  anywhere 
but  to  Syria." 

Day  sped  into  day.  The  great  host  of  Raymond  of  Tou- 
louse was  preparing  to  set  forth  for  Italy.  The  hours  of 
dreaming  in  the  orchard  under  the  ivy-hung  castle  wall  at 
last  saw  an  end.  Musa  had  received  by  the  latest  ship  to 
Marseilles  from  the  East,  a  long  and  flattering  letter  from 
Afdhal,  the  vizier  of  the  Fatimite  kalif  himself.  The  offer 
was  a  notable  one,  a  high  emirate  in  the  Egyptian  service. 
There  would  be  fighting  in  plenty  in  Tripoli  and  Ethiopia, 
not  to  mention  Syria  and  beyond ;  for  the  Cairo  govern- 
ment had  on  foot  a  great  project  to  break  the  power  of  the 
Abbaside  rivals  at  Bagdad  and  their  Seljouk  masters  and 
guardians.  Musa  brought  the  letter  to  Richard  and  Mary, 
as  the  two  sat  beneath  the  great  trees,  each  hearing  no 
music  save  the  other's  voice.  And  when  he  had  finished, 
Richard  said  calmly :  "  Yes,  brother  mine,  now  at  last  you 
must  leave  us.  Yet,  please  God,  you  shall  see  no  service 
in  Syria  till  we  have  sped  our  arrow  at  Jerusalem,  for 
good  or  ill.  Our  hopes  and  hearts  go  with  you  ;  but  you 
must  go." 

Musa  bowed  his  head ;  then  to  Mary :  "  And  you, 
Brightness  of  the  Greeks,  are  you  bound  irrevocably  to 
go  to  Palestine  ? " 

"  I  go  with  my  husband,"  said  Mary,  simply,  looking 
straight  upon  him  with  her  frank,  dark  eyes. 

"  Then  remember  this,"  replied  the  Spaniard,  very  gravely, 
"  if  at  any  time  —  and  so  Allah  wills  —  I  can  serve  you 
with  wit,  or  sword,  or  life,  remember  I  am  Richard  Long- 
sword's  brother,  and,  therefore,  your  own.  What  I  said  at 
Palermo,  I  say  once  more.  And  who  is  so  wise  that  he 


HOW   RICHARD   PARTED  WITH   HIS  BROTHER     231 

will  say  :  '  Musa  the  Moslem  shall  never  again  give  succor 
to  Mary,  the  Star  of  the  Christians  '  ?  " 

"  Hei"  cried  Mary,  trying  to  laugh,  a  little  tearfully, 
"your  face  is  sad  as  though  you  saw  me  in  the  clutch  —  " 
she  was  about  to  say,  "of  Iftikhar,"  but  the  shadow  of 
the  memory  of  that  scene  at  Palermo,  when  the  emir's  mad 
breath  smote  her  cheek,  passed  before  her  mind,  and  she 
was  silent. 

"  Sweet  lady,"  answered  the  Spaniard,  smiling,  yet  after 
his  melancholy  way,  "  I  have  scant  belief  in  omens.  Men 
say  I  am  reckless  in  danger,  as  though  tempting  Allah  to 
write  my  name  in  the  book  of  doom.  Listen :  when  I 
was  young  my  father  had  the  astrologers  of  the  king  of 
Seville's  court  cast  my  horoscope.  And  they  came  to  him, 
saying:  '  Lord,  your  son  will  be  a  great  cavalier;  he  shall 
escape  a  thousand  perils  ;  a  thousand  enemies  shall  seek  his 
life  ;  he  shall  mock  them  all.  Nevertheless  he  shall  perish, 
and  that  because  of  the  passion  for  a  maid,  whose  beauty 
shall  outrun  praise  by  the  poet  Nawas,  whose  loveliness 
shall  surpass  the  houris  of  Paradise ;  yet  even  she  in  her 
guilelessness  shall  undo  him.'  ' 

"  But  you  distrust  prophecies !  "  exclaimed  the  Greek, 
blushing. 

"  Even  so,"  continued  the  Andalusian,  stroking  his  beard  ; 
"  yet  see.  If  it  be  true  as  the  astrologers  say,  I  may  run 
to  myriad  dangers  and  stand  scatheless ;  for  where  is 
the  maid  who  shall  put  madness  in  me  saving  you,"  with  a 
soft  smile ;  "  and  are  you  not  my  sister,  in  whose  love  for 
my  brother  I  joy  ?  " 

"You  speak  riddles,"  said  Mary,  this  time  casting  down 
her  eyes. 

"  Riddles  ?  There  is  little  profit  in  the  unweaving.  Per- 
haps in  Egypt,  in  that  warm,  enchanted  Nile  country,  in 
some  genii-haunted  island  of  the  great  river  where  the 
cataract  foams,  and  the  sun  makes  rainbow  ever  on  the 
mist,  —  who  knows  but  that  I  may  find  my  temptress  — 
my  destruction ! " 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Richard,  laughing  now,  "  she  must  indeed 
be  more  than  human  fair,  for  I  think  no  mortal  maid  will 


232  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

stir  the  heart  of  Musa,  son  of  Abdallah,  if  — "  But  he 
paused,  and  his  eyes  were  on  Mary,  who  clapped  her  hand 
upon  his  lips.  Musa  was  humming  gently  a  weird  Spanish 
song,  then  laughed  in  turn  in  pure  merriment.  "  See,  we 
almost  draw  swords,  because  I  will  not  confess  myself 
covetous  of  Richard's  bride  !  " 

"  Silence,  or  I  wed  neither  !  "  came  from  Mary ;  and  per- 
force the  two  made  her  blush  no  more. 

Then  before  the  sober  days  that  awaited  them  came, 
there  was  the  wedding.  Musa  was  soon  to  take  ship  to 
Palermo,  thence  to  Egypt;  so  they  hastened  the  bridal, 
and  Baron  Hardouin  gave  them  one  which  was  long  the 
talk  of  the  country-side.  Never  before  was  the  sky  more 
blue,  the  air  more  sweet,  the  village  church  bells'  pealing 
merrier.  A  hundred  guests  from  far  and  near;  amongst 
them  Counts  Raymond  and  Gaston,  ridden  over  from 
Orange.  A  noble  procession  it  was  to  the  church,  the 
jongleurs  leading  in  their  brightest  motley ;  the  bride  all 
in  violet  silk,  gold  lace  and  ermine  at  her  fair  throat ;  on  her 
hair  a  great  crown  of  roses  red  as  her  own  red  lips ;  be- 
hind pranced  Rollo,  bearing  his  lord  on  an  ivory  saddle ; 
then  all  the  guests,  the  great  ladies  crowned  with  gold ; 
and  flowers  upon  every  neck,  upon  the  beasts,  upon  the 
roadway ;  till  the  throng  came  to  the  church  porch,  where 
Sebastian  stood  to  greet  them. 

In  his  hands  was  a  book,  and  on  it  a  little  silver  ring. 
Mary  stood  before  the  priest,  and  Richard  Longsword  at 
her  side.  Her  eyes  were  cast  down  —  "  She  has  neither 
father  nor  mother  to  give  her  away,  ah !  dear  lady,"  all 
the  women  were  lamenting.  But  Baron  Hardouin  ad- 
vanced to  her,  took  her  hand  in  his,  laid  it  in  the  hand  of 
the  Norman;  and  the  latter  —  the  words  coming  from  his 
very  soul  —  repeated  the  great  vow :  "  Forever  I  swear  it, 
by  God's  strength  and  my  strength ;  in  health  or  in  sick- 
ness, I  promise  to  guard  her."  Then  Sebastian  took 
the  ring :  he  said  a  little  prayer  over  it,  and  gave  to 
Richard ;  and  Richard  placed  it  on  three  ringers  in  succes- 
sion of  the  little  hand  that  lay  in  his.  "  In  the  name  of 
the  Father !  "  —  then,  "  of  the  Son !  "  —then,  "  of  the  Holy 


HOW   RICHARD   PARTED   WITH   HIS   BROTHER     233 

Ghost !  "  And  on  that  third  finger  the  ring  should  abide 
till  life  was  sped.  As  it  slipped  to  its  place,  the  women 
gave  a  little  laugh  and  cry,  "Good  omen!  it  glides  easily! 
She  will  be  a  peaceful  bride!  "  For  when  the  ring  stuck 
fast,  there  was  foreboding  of  shrewings  and  sorrow. 

Then  into  the  church  —  dim,  awesome ;  two  candles  on 
the  altar  ;  a  cloud  of  incense  ;  a  vast  company  still  pressing 
about  with  curious  whisperings.  In  the  gray  nave  they 
•knelt  for  the  benediction ;  distant,  mysterious  as  from  an- 
other world,  "  May  God  bless  you,  and  show  Himself  favor- 
able unto  you,  your  bodies  and  your  souls."  Then  they 
received  the  host  at  the  altar;  and  Richard,  as  was  ap- 
pointed, in  the  sight  of  a  thousand,  with  a  great  crucifix 
above  and  Christ  Himself  in  the  golden  dove  beneath  the 
altar,  took  Mary  in  his  arms,  and  gave  her  the  kiss  of 
peace  —  the  peace  of  the  love  that  may  not  die  in  earth  or 
in  heaven. 

This  over,  back  to  the  castle,  the  trumpets  making  the 
azure  quake  ;  banners  on  every  house  ;  flowers  rained  upon 
the  bride ;  her  black  mule  treading  a  scarlet  carpet.  All 
shouted,  "  Joy,  joy  and  long  life  to  the  noble  Lady  of  St. 
Julien  !  Joy  to  the  valiant  Baron  !  Joy  to  both  !  "  So 
there  were  fetes  and  tournaments  eight  days  long,  as  the 
custom  was.  Mary  and  Richard  went  to  their  wedding 
mass,  and  during  the  service  the  bride,  as  did  all  good 
brides,  they  told  her,  made  vows  to  obey  her  lord,  to  call 
him  "  Monsire,"  or,  better,  the  good  Latin  "  Domine."  But 
she  straightway  disproved  this  promise,  and  mocked  the 
great  De  St.  Julien  to  his  face. 

On  the  ninth  day  Musa  said  farewell.  Richard  and 
Mary  rode  forth  with  him  for  a  long  way,  to  see  him  well 
towards  Marseilles.  Neither  he  nor  Richard  spoke  the 
word  nearest  their  hearts,  —  "  What  will  befall  the  soul  of 
my  brother  ?  "  But  they  had  many  things  to  say,  of  when 
the  Crusade  should  be  over,  and  Moslem  and  Christian 
might  be  friends  at  least  in  this  world.  But  that  hour 
seemed  very  far  away. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  fork,  and  the  two  could  go  no 
farther.  Musa  turned  to  bid  farewell.  "  Remember,"  said 


234  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

he,  in  his  musical  Spanish  Arabic,  "  remember  the  mercy 
of  Allah  surpasses  all  human  mercy.  We  are  all  in  the 
hollow  of  His  hand ;  Christian  and  Moslem  alike  in  His 
keeping.  By  His  will  we  shall  meet,  and  naught  shall 
sever." 

"  Amen !  "  said  Richard,  looking  down.  They  had  all  dis- 
mounted. Without  speaking,  he  cast  his  arms  about  Musa, 
and  gave  him  a  close  embrace.  And  when  the  two  stood 
apart,  the  Spaniard's  eyes  rested  on  Mary,  then  on  Long- 
sword.  The  Norman  smiled  and  nodded.  "  Are  you  not 
my  sister  ? "  said  Musa,  simply.  And  he  laid  his  hands 
upon  her  arms,  and  kissed  her  forehead,  while  she  resisted 
not,  nor  even  blushed.  Only  her  long  lashes  were  bright, 
when  she  answered :  — 

"  Yes,  my  brother,  my  heart  is  very  full.  I  cannot  speak 
all  the  things  I  feel." 

Musa  swung  into  his  saddle;  the  men-at-arms  of  Har- 
douin  who  were  to  escort  him  to  Marseilles  cantered  after. 
They  saw  the  Spaniard  climb  a  hillock ;  just  at  the  curve 
he  gave  one  sweep  of  the  hand  —  was  gone.  Mary  laid 
her  head  on  Richard's  shoulder,  and  spoke  nothing  for  a  long 
time.  Then  they  rode  to  La  Haye  together,  and  neither 
had  heart  for  idle  speech. 

At  the  castle  gate  Sebastian  met  them,  his  face  —  so  far 
as  he  ever  suffered  it  —  twisted  with  a  smile. 

"Glory  to  St.  Raphael!     The  unbeliever  is  departed !  " 

"  Musa  is  gone,"  answered  Richard,  soberly. 

"  Praises  to  God !  the  devil  hath  reclaimed  his  own  !  the 
lake  of  unquenchable  fire — " 

But  he  spoke  no  more.  Richard  had  knotted  his  fist  and 
with  one  buffet  felled  the  priest,  so  that  he  did  not  speak 
for  a  good  while ;  and  when  he  did,  Mary  observed  that 
never  by  word  or  deed  did  he  recall  the  Spaniard. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

HOW  IFTIKHAR'S  MESSENGER  RETURNED 

IT  was  the  twelfth  day  of  the  sacred  month  Ramadan,  in 
the  year  of  the  flight  of  the  Prophet  four  hundred  and 
ninety,  —  according  to  the  Christian  reckoning  in  the 
month  of  August,  one  thousand  and  ninety-six, —  that  Ifti- 
khar  Eddauleh  sat  over  his  sherbet  in  the  palace  El  Hale- 
bah,  which  is  by  the  Syrian  city  of  Aleppo.  Now  good 
Moslems  were  not  presumed  to  enjoy  food  or  drink  from 
rise  to  set  of  sun  during  the  sacred  month,  therefore  the 
grand  Iprior  of  the  Ismaelians  sat  shaded  on  the  liwan,  a 
raised  hall  opening  off  the  great  court  of  the  palace.  Here, 
with  the  door  covered  by  Indian  tapestries,  and  with  silken 
carpets  of  Kerman  deadening  the  footfalls  of  each  soft- 
stepping  Persian  slave,  the  great  man  could  lie  upon  his 
purple  couch,  and  let  his  eye  rove  from  the  bright,  inlaid 
stones  of  the  alabaster  walls  to  the  ceiling  beams  of  gilded 
teak.  Without  the  sun  beat  hot,  the  parching  south  wind 
from  the  desert  swept  sand-dust  in  the  eyes  of  man  and 
beast;  but  within  all  was  cool,  darkened,  fragrant  with 
frankincense  from  the  smouldering  brazier. 

Iftikhar  was  in  that  mood  of  sleepy  indolence  to  which 
men  wonted  to  a  life  of  restless  action  are  often  prone. 
He  was  clad  only  in  a  loose  under-mantle  of  green  cotton ; 
and  while  he  dozed  a  dark-eyed  maid  of  Dekkan  was 
bathing  his  feet  with  perfumed  water  from  a  porcelain 
basin.  A  second  maid  stood  by  the  couch,  and  often,  as 
the  master  languidly  held  out  his  cup,  refilled  it  with  the 
sweet  rose  sherbet  from  a  brass  cooler  of  snow.  Iftikhar 
drank  again,  and  again,  speaking  not  a  word ;  till  at  last 
the  first  Hindoo,  having  borne  away  the  bowl,  stood  at  his 

235 


236  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

head  with  a  great  fan  of  bright  feathers.  So  far  as  speech 
or  expression  was  in  question,  his  ministers  might  have 
been  moving  statues,  so  noiseless,  so  mechanical,  was  every 
action. 

Presently  Iftikhar  began  communing  with  himself,  as 
was  his  wont,  half  aloud.  "One  year  in  Syria;  wallah! 
truly  if  prosperity  is  not  my  destiny,  all  the  jinns  deceive.  I 
have  been  to  Alamont,  the  'Vulture's  Nest,'  have  seen 
Hassan  ben-Sabah,  Lord  of  the  Ismaelians,  and  all  the 
'  devoted  '  have  been  bidden  to  obey  my  word  as  they  would 
the  '  Cid  of  the  Mountain.'  At  my  nod  ten  thousand  dag- 
gers flash,  ten  thousand  riders  go  forth.  Let  emir  or 
sultan  offend :  —  he  lies  down  on  his  bed,  his  memlouks 
about;  he  awakes  —  in  paradise;  for  in  all  Islam  who 
may  escape  our  daggers  ?  Mashallah  !  —  let  others  boast ; 
what  may  not  I,  Iftikhar,  accomplish  ?  I,  who  was  left 
a  foundling  in  the  great  Cairo  mosque  El-Azhar,  and  was 
reared  by  the  compassionate  Imam  Abdul  Aziz  ?  Power, 
riches,  glory  —  there  shall  be  no  bound  to  my  fortune!" 

The  Egyptian  leaped  up  and  began  to  pace  the  floor. 

"  Much  yet  to  do,"  ran  he  on;  "I  have  Hassan  Sabah's 
pledge  that  I  shall  be  his  successor.  Every  barrier  must  be 
plucked  down  betwixt  the  Ismaelians  and  empire  over  all 
Islam,  such  as  Harun  or  Mansur  never  held.  'All  is 
permitted,  naught  feared,'  —  such  is  our  watchword,  taught 
the  initiated  at  the  grand  lodge  in  Cairo.  Let  him  who 
stands  in  our  way  be  snuffed  out  like  a  rushlight,  —  Bar- 
kyarok  the  arch-sultan,  the  Bagdad  kalif,  who  is  Barkya- 
rok's  puppet  —  all  —  all !  " 

As  the  Egyptian  spoke,  a  huge  negro,  shining  with  great 
earrings,  and,  save  for  a  red  cincture,  clothed  only  in  his 
ebony,  glided  from  behind  the  curtained  door.  In  his 
hand  was  a  naked  cimeter  of  startling  length.  Never  a 
word  he  said,  but  only  pointed  with  his  weapon  to  the 
passage,  then  salaamed. 

"  The  dervish  Kerbogha  ? "  asked  Iftikhar,  stopping  his 
pacings. 

The  negro,  who  was  a  mute,  only  bowed  almost  to  the  floor. 

"  Bid  him  enter."     The  giant  salaamed  a  third  time, 


HOW   IFTIKHAR'S   MESSENGER   RETURNED      237 

and  was  gone.  An  instant  later  a  stranger  entered.  His 
robe  was  spotless  white,  but  the  shoes  and  belt  were  red. 
He  was  a  man  just  in  the  turn  of  life,  with  a  powerful 
military  frame,  the  nose  of  a  hawk,  and  a  hawk's  keen  eye  ; 
a  grizzled  beard,  very  thick,  that  swept  his  breast ;  his  head 
crowned  with  a  peaked  felt  hat,  also  white.  The  sun  had 
long  since  tanned  his  skin  to  a  rich  bronze ;  there  were 
scars  on  cheeks,  forehead,  hands.  He  strode  with  the 
springing  step  of  one  who  loved  hardship  for  hardship's 
sake ;  and  no  second  glance  was  needed  to  tell  that  power 
and  command  were  second  nature. 

Iftikhar  bowed  very  ceremoniously,  thrusting  one  hand 
in  his  bosom,  and  the  stranger  doing  the  like,  while  the 
formula  was  exchanged  :  "  Peace  be  on  you."  "On  you  be 
peace,  and  the  mercy  of  Allah  and  His  blessings." 

Then  the  Egyptian  bade  the  Hindoos  bring  new  water 
and  sherbet.  The  stranger  flung  himself  upon  the  divan, 
and  words  flew  fast. 

"  You  have  been  to  Antioch  ?  "  asked  Iftikhar. 

"I  have,"  replied  Kerbogha,  —  for  such  was  the  new 
comer's  name.  "  Yaghi-Sian  is  willing  to  link  hands  with 
us.  His  pride  has  been  humbled  mightily  since  he  attacked 
your  friend  Redouan,  lord  of  Aleppo,  and  was  defeated. 
Now  he  sees  that  only  by  joining  the  Ismaelians  can  he 
hope  for  success." 

"  And  you  promised  —  ? " 

"  That  if  the  plans  of  Hassan  Sabah  fail  not,  we  shall 
have  the  puppet  kalif,  Mustazhir,  and  his  master,  the  arch- 
sultan  Barkyarok,  at  our  mercy  in  two  years.  Then  each 
prince  who  is  of  our  party  shall  divide  the  spoils,  and  rule 
every  one  in  his  own  land,  sending  some  tribute  to  Alamont 
in  sign  of  fealty  to  the  order.  I  have  engaged,  you  will 
warn  Redouan,  that  Yaghi-Sian  is  not  to  be  attacked ;  and 
if  he  refuse,  let  him  remember  how  our  daggers  found 
Nizam  ul-Mulk,  the  great  vizier.  To-day  I  am  at  Aleppo, 
to-morrow  I  go  to  Mosul,  thence  to  Alamont  to  tell  my  tale 
to  Hassan  Sabah." 

Whereupon  Iftikhar  replied,  while  the  slaves  bathed 
Kerbogha's  feet:  — 


238  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

"  I  see  all  goes  well.  The  Seljouk  power  declines  since 
the  death  of  Malek  Shah.  Yet  Barkyarok  is  not  to  be 
despised ;  he  can  still  summon  the  Turkish  hordes.  The 
'  devoted '  cannot  do  all.  The  dagger  throws  down  many 
thrones,  raises  none.  To  strike  kalif  and  sultan  we  need 
more  —  an  army  —  myriads;  how  gather  it?  A  whisper  at 
Ispahan,  '  Kerbogha  is  of  the  Ismaelians ;  he  moves  dis- 
guised as  a  dervish  to  seduce  the  emirs.'  How  long  then 
does  the  arch-sultan  delay  to  send  the  bowstring  ?  " 

Kerbogha  set  down  his  sherbet  cup  and  laughed  dryly. 

"  Wallah,  can  one  always  play  at  backgammon,1  and 
win  ?  So  in  life ;  fortune  and  skill  must  go  together.  Let 
us  play  our  game,  and  take  what  Allah  sends  without  a 
quiver." 

"  An  army,  an  army ;  where  an  army,  to  break  the  arch- 
sultan's  might  ? "  Iftikhar  was  repeating,  when  the  curtain 
was  thrust  away.  The  giant  negro  was  salaaming  again. 

"  Another  stranger  ?  " 

The  mute  nodded. 

"  Can  he  be  trusted  ? "  the  second  question  from  Ker- 
bogha. 

A  second  nod.     "  Let  him  come  in." 

And  the  curtains  gave  way  for  none  other  than  the 
dwarf  Zeyneb,  travel-stained,  with  a  ragged  beard  and  a 
very  tattered  costume.  At  sight  of  his  master  and  Ker- 
bogha, the  dwarf  bowed  to  the  rugs,  then  laid  his  hand  on 
lips  and  forehead.  At  last  Iftikhar  spoke  :  — 

"  You  come  from  Frankland  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  amongst  the  Franks,  lord,  as  you  deigned 
to  command." 

"  And  Richard  Longsword,  whom  my  soul  hates  ? " 
came  eagerly. 

The  dwarf  looked  his  master  full  in  the  eye. 

"  He  still  lives,  and  to  my  knowledge  prospers." 

"  Child  of  Eblees  the  Devil,  have  you  failed  yet  again  ? 
at  Palermo,  at  Cefalu,  and  now  in  France  ?"  And  Iftikhar 
put  forth  his  hand  for  the  ivory  staff  that  lay  by  the  divan. 
"  Sluggard,  an  hundred  strokes  on  your  bare  heels  for  this !  " 

1  Arab  name :  Tawulah. 


HOW   IFTIKHAR'S  MESSENGER  RETURNED      239 

The  dwarf  still  did  not  flinch. 

"  Master,  once  at  Clermont  where  the  Prankish  lords 
were  all  gathered  to  prepare  for  taking  Jerusalem,  I  stabbed 
at  him  through  the  walls  of  his  tent ;  some  jinn  prompted 
him  to  wear  a  Valencia  hauberk.  Barely  I  made  away. 
Again  in  Provence,  when  he  stood  by  the  Star  of  the 
Greeks,  I  would  have  stricken  him  in  her  arms ;  but 
that  chain  shirt,  enchanted  doubtless,  turned  the  blow. 
I  was  cast  into  a  dungeon,  and  only  because  Allah  granted 
that  I  should  know  how  to  pick  loose  fetters,  and  because 
He  shed  sleep  upon  my  guard,  did  I  escape  being  food  for 
dogs.  Therefore,  if  I  deserve  stripes,  lay  on ;  yet  my 
small  wit  could  do  no  more.  The  hand  of  Allah  protects 
Richard  Longsword." 

Iftikhar  controlled  himself  by  no  common  effort. 

"  You  have  ever  been  a  trusty  slave,  Zeyneb ;  no  man 
may  contend  against  the  Most  High.  I  do  wrong  to  be 
angry.  Depart,  and  when  refreshed,  return  and  tell  all ; 
of  the  Star  of  the  Greeks  and  of  the  commotions  amongst 
the  Franks ;  for  of  these  last  the  Lord  Kerbogha  will  be 
glad  to  hear." 

But  as  Zeyneb  was  bowing  himself  out  of  the  liwan,  a 
low,  weird  song  stole  from  the  chambers  within  ;  now  softly 
rising  as  the  breeze,  now  mounting  shriller,  shriller,  till  the 
gilded  stalactites  trembled,  and  the  whole  hall  throbbed 
with  the  wailing  melody,  then  fainter,  dying  like  the  re- 
treating wind.  Again  and  again  the  three  heard  the  wild 
song  rise,  throb,  fall,  and  a  strange  awe  spread  over  them, 
as  if  more  than  mortal  accents  drifted  with  the  note. 

"The  song  of  Morgiana,"  said  Iftikhar,  dropping  his 
eyes ;  "  she  is  fallen  in  her  trance.  My  Lord  Kerbogha, 
let  us  go  to  her.  For  her  eyes  now  see  things  hid  to  all 
save  Allah !  " 

The  three  tiptoed  down  a  long,  dark  way,  Zeyneb  follow- 
ing as  a  matter  of  course.  At  the  end  was  a  door  where 
stood  a  second  eunuch,  a  tall,  beardless,  ebony  skeleton, 
with  naked  sabre  held  before  him.  The  black  knelt  while 
his  master  passed.  Iftikhar  knocked  thrice  at  the  door; 
it  turned  on  its  pivots  slowly,  noiselessly,  by  some  unseen 


240  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

power.  As  the  three  stepped  within,  they  were  nigh  daz- 
zled by  the  intense  white  light.  They  were  in  a  court 
surrounded  by  a  two-storied  arcade,  the  delicate  columns, 
the  fantastic  capitals,  fretwork,  and  panelling,  all  in  alabaster 
and  marble.  Below,  the  eye  wandered  over  gilt  mosaics, 
winding  scroll  into  scroll,  till  sight  grew  mazed  and  weary. 
In  the  centre  of  the  court  sprang  a  tall  silver  pipe,  em- 
bossed with  strange  figures,  discharging  itself  aloft  in  a 
fine  cool  spray  that  drifted  downward  on  all  beneath. 
Perfume  mingled  with  the  spray,  and  what  with  the  blind- 
ing light;  shot  through  the  mist,  and  the  wandering  song 
which  ever  grew  nearer,  sense  lost  itself  as  amid  an  enchant- 
er's spell.  Iftikhar  led  past  the  fountain,  into  the  arcade ; 
and  in  the  shadows  apart  from  the  misty  outer  air  a  brazier 
was  smouldering,  and  a  heavy  fragrance  rose  with  the  gray 
smoke.  Still  the  song,  very  loud  now,  but  no  word  heard 
clearly.  Iftikhar  spoke. 

"  Morgiana !  "  And  Kerbogha  saw  sitting  in  the  dark 
niche,  behind  the  brazier,  a  woman,  her  head  thrown  back, 
drinking  in  the  rising  vapor.  She  was  dressed  only  in  a 
violet  robe  that  fell  from  throat  to  feet.  There  was  a 
girdle  of  silver  chain-work ;  no  sleeves ;  arms,  neck,  face, 
all  bare ;  the  skin,  not  so  dark  as  of  most  Eastern  women, 
rather  a  fine  olive.  Black  and  slightly  waving  was  the 
long  hair  that  tossed  heedlessly  over  the  shoulders.  In  the 
shadow  Kerbogha  could  only  see  that  the  face  presented  a 
profile  of  marvellous  symmetry,  and  the  eyes  —  wonder  of 
wonders,  —  now  flashing  with  a  half-drunken  fire  —  were 
steel-blue.  As  Iftikhar  spoke,  the  woman  tossed  her  head, 
but  continued  the  song.  They  heard  her  words  :  — 

"  Armies  advancing ;  the  vultures  appearing, 

Wheel  for  their  prey. 
Now  the  hosts  mingle,  a  thousand  blades  flashing ; 

Hid  is  the  day 
By  the  twittering  arrows;  as,  quaking  like  aspen, 

The  warring  hosts  sway! " 

"Morgiana!"  again  Iftikhar  commanded.  The  song 
sank  into  wild  moanings,  dimmer,  dimmer,  —  was  gone. 
The  strange  singer  now  spoke,  yet  still  in  wild  rhythm  :  — 


HOW   IFFIKHAR'S   MESSENGER  RETURNED     241 

"Wherefore,  man,  do  you  come  to  me,  the  blue-eyed 
maid  of  Yemen !  See,  the  smoke-drug  is  strong ;  let  me 
drink,  drink,  drink,  and  tread  beyond  the  stars." 

"  Moon  of  the  Arabs,"  spoke  Iftikhar,  softly,  as  though 
stepping  delicately,  "  I  heard  your  song ;  the  power  of  the 
drug  is  upon  you.  I  would  have  you  speak  before  me  and 
the  Lord  Kerbogha.  Make  known  to  us  the  way  of  the 
jinns.  Reveal  —  is  it  written  in  the  smoke  that  Barkyarok 
perish  ?  that  the  Master  of  the  Devoted  be  hailed  Com- 
mander of  the  Faithful  in  Bagdad  ? " 

The  eye  of  the  maiden  was  wandering,  now  on  Zeyneb, 
now  on  Kerbogha  —  a  long  silence,  then  of  a  sudden  :  — 

"  My  sight  is  dim  ;  I  see  nothing ;  the  smoke  weaves  no 
picture ;  I  cannot  see  the  sultan ;  my  ears  hear  the  ques- 
tion, my  eyes  are  blind." 

"Wait,"  whispered  Iftikhar  to  Kerbogha,  who,  man  of 
war  that  he  was,  felt  the  very  air  awe-laden. 

Morgiana  bent  over  the  brazier,  blew  the  smouldering 
leaves  ;  again  the  smoke  rose  thickly.  Twice  she  breathed 
it  deep ;  when  she  raised  her  head,  the  fire  glittered  once 
more  in  her  eyes. 

"  Behold !  behold ! "  and  she  half  started  from  the 
niche. 

Iftikhar  hung  on  each  word.  She  continued,  first  slowly, 
then  faster,  faster,  finally  running  in  half  song,  half  chant ; 
arising  the  meantime  with  outstretched  arms,  shaking  the 
flowing  tresses  as  she  swayed  :  — 

"  Again  armies ;  tens  of  thousands,  horseman  and  foot- 
man, in  the  armor  of  the  Franks,  the  red  cross  of  Issa 
upon  their  breasts ;  another  host ;  Arab,  Seljouk ;  tens  of 
thousands  ;  battle.  Allah  can  number  the  slain,  not  man  ; 
death,  death  upon  every  wind ! "  She  swayed  still  more 
wildly,  as  if  mastered  by  the  vapor. 

"  One  face  I  see,  the  Greek,  the  Greek,  Mary  Kurkuas. 
She  is  struggling  —  in  vain;  a  mighty  arm  holds  her;  a 
great  warrior  bears  her.  Allah  !  I  know  him  ;  I  would 
not  tell  his  name !  "  But  Iftikhar  had  broken  forth  almost 
sternly :  — 

"  Speak,  speak,  woman !     Who  is  the  warrior  you  see 

R 


242  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

against  the  smoke  ?  "  The  words  turned  the  trend  of  the 
spell.  Morgiana  moved  more  gently  as  she  repeated  in 
quick  rhythm :  — 

"  Now  the  smoke  weaveth  in  mystical  figure ; 
I  see  the  hosts  marching, 
I  see  the  hosts  warring, 
I  see  the  strife  swaying 
Like  wrestling  swift  winds! 

"  'Twixt  Frankland  and  Eastland  the  conflict  sore  wageth ; 
I  see  the  Greek  flower  transported  beside  thee, 
Thine  eyes,  —  they  behold  her; 
Thy  arms,  —  they  enfold  her ; 
Thy  heart  is  as  flame!  —  " 

"Allah  akhbar!"  burst  from  Iftikhar,  starting.  And 
at  the  cry,  Morgiana  had  given  another,  and  fell  so  sud- 
denly that  only  a  quick  snatch  by  Zeyneb  saved  her  from 
striking  the  brazier.  She  was  speechless,  pallid,  when 
they  lifted  her ;  Kerbogha  would  have  declared  her  dead. 
But  Iftikhar  drew  from  his  bosom  a  crystal  vial,  in 
which  glowed  a  liquor  red  as  vermilion.  Three  drops  he 
laid  upon  her  lips  ;  and  lo,  there  was  a  flush  of  color,  and 
in  a  moment  the  woman  was  sitting  upon  the  rugs  and 
glancing  at  them  with  shy,  scared  eyes.  Iftikhar  beck- 
oned to  Kerbogha,  who  bowed  and  withdrew ;  but  Zey- 
neb remained.  All  the  glitter  and  madness  had  passed 
from  Morgiana's  face.  Zeyneb  knelt  and  kissed  her  hand, 
which  lay  limp  within  his  own. 

"  You  see  I  have  returned  safe  from  my  long  journey, 
Moon  of  Yemen  ;  can  you  wish  me  no  joy  ? " 

The  languid  eyes  lighted  a  little. 

"Allah  is  merciful;  I  am  very  weary."  This  last  to 
Iftikhar. 

"Verily,"  cried  the  Egyptian,  "you  should  not  make 
the  magic  smoke ;  see,  you  are  frail  as  a  lily  of  Damascus ; 
a  sigh  of  the  south  wind  would  destroy  you.  Have  I  not 
forbidden  it  ? " 

"  Lord,"  replied  the  lady,  raising  her  eyes,  now  touched 
with  a  soft,  sweet  fire,  "  the  hour  came  to  me  to-day.  As 


HOW   IFTIKHAR'S   MESSENGER  RETURNED      243 

the  bird  must  fly  north  in  springtime,  so  must  I  drink  the 
hemp  smoke,  when  the  genii  bid,  or  die.  Ah,  lord  —  I 
saw  in  the  smoke  shapes  —  terrible  shapes  —  they  are 
gone;  the  shadow  still  hangs  over  me;  yet  I  know  this  — 
woe,  woe,  woe,  awaits,  —  for  you,  for  Zeyneb,  for  me.  I 
am  sad  ;  my  heart  is  torn." 

Iftikhar  knelt  beside  the  divan,  and  looked  into  her  face. 

"Life  of  my  own!"  said  he,  half  passionately,  "why 
sad  ?  What  is  the  desire  ?  A  palace  —  can  any  be  more 
fair  than  El  Halebah  ?  Jewels,  robes  ?  —  the  riches  of 
Aleppo  are  yours.  Servants  ?  —  a  hundred  maids  of 
Khorassan  and  Fars  and  Ind  are  your  ministers,  most 
beautiful  of  the  daughters  of  men,  save  as  you  outshine. 
The  pang  ?  The  wish  ?  Your  will  is  law  to  me,  and  to  all 
the  '  devoted  '  of  Syria." 

But  Morgiana  turned  away  her  head. 

"Lord,"  said  she,  half  bitterly,  "will  palace,  and  riches, 
and  slaves  bind  up  a  bruised  heart  ?  Is  gold  a  cordial  for 
the  soul?  Does  the  dagger  say,  'I  am  sovereign 
physician '  ? " 

"  Riddles—  "  commented  Iftikhar,  still  kneeling. 

Morgiana  flushed ;  there  was  a  flash  in  her  eyes  now, 
but  not  of  softness  or  delirium.  "  It  is  past,"  cried  she, 
bending  her  henna-dyed  hand  across  her  brow,  as  if  to 
drive  away  a  vapor.  "The  vision  is  gone.  But  I  see  — 
O  Iftikhar,  whom  I  have  loved,  —  soul  of  my  soul, — 
what  do  I  not  see  !  I  see  your  love  for  me,  true,  and  pure, 
and  strong,  when  you  bought  me  and  Zeyneb,  my  brother, 
at  the  slave  market  in  Damascus.  And  when  we  were 
with  you  in  Sicily,  and  you  served  amongst  the  Christians, 
what  nest  of  the  wood-thrush  more  joyous  than  our  home 
at  Palermo  ?  As  you  won  honor  after  honor,  and  Christian 
and  Moslem  lauded  you,  was  your  gladness  greater  than 
mine  ?  Then  came  the  day  when  you  listened  to  the  cursed 
envoys  of  Hassan  Sabah,  and  sold  yourself  to  this  fiends' 
brotherhood,  who  live  by  the  dagger  of  stealth,  and  not  by 
the  sword  of  manhood,  —  that  was  the  first  sorrow.  And 
then  —  "  she  hesitated,  but  drove  on,  and  her  eyes  flamed 
yet  fiercer  —  "  came  that  hour  when  the  old  Kurkuas  and 


244  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

his  daughter  came  to  Palermo,  —  and  you  set  eyes  on  her 
Greek  beauty.  I  have  seen  her;  she  is  fair,  I  own  it  — 
and  your  heart  grew  chill  toward  me.  Me  you  left  in  the 
harem,  with  a  few  fawning,  glozing  words,  and  went  about 
sighing,  dreaming  of  the  Greek ;  and  my  joy  was  at  end. 
Almost,  even  then,  you  would  have  possessed  her ;  but  I 
was  crafty  beyond  you  and  Zeyneb.  Remember  the  hour 
in  the  Palace  of  the  Diadem,  when  Musa  the  Spaniard  saw 
you  with  your  arms — " 

"  As  Allah  lives ! "  thundered  Iftikhar,  leaping  up, 
"  how  knew  you  this  ?  No  more  —  witch,  sorceress  !  " 

"  Rage  as  you  will !  "  tossed  forth  Morgiana,  throwing 
back  her  head  ;  "  it  was  I  that  warned  Musa.  Ah  !  you  both 
are  weak  —  weak,  though  you  vaunt  yourself  so  strong." 

Iftikhar  was  foaming ;  his  fury  was  terrible.  But  Mor- 
giana never  quivered.  "  So  you  fled  Sicily  after  devising 
murder  in  vain.  Then  the  deed  at  Cefalu — and  that 
accursed  child  Eleanor  still  remains  to  drive  me  wild  with 
her  moans  and  her  sorrow.  Again  this  Zeyneb,  worthy 
brother,  returns  from  Frankland.  He  has  failed.  I  saw 
Richard  Longsword's  form  in  the  smoke,  and  the  smoke 
shows  only  the  living.  But  he  and  Mary  Kurkuas  will 
come,  —  come  with  the  Prankish  hordes,  —  and  then  !  Woe 
to  you  and  woe  to  me,  if  your  heart  remember  her 
beauty !  " 

"  And  the  smoke  mist  says  true,  fair  sister,"  quoth 
Zeyneb,  naught  abashed.  "  Richard  Longsword  goes 
to  Jerusalem,  and  with  him  Mary  Kurkuas,  wedded, 
though  not  yet  truly  his  wife ;  so  I  heard  from  her  own 
lips."  And  he  darted  a  swift  glance  at  his  master. 

"  Lord,  lord !  "  cried  Morgiana,  suddenly  falling  on  the 
pavement.  "  Do  not  listen  !  forget !  forget !  Put  her 
from  your  heart !  See  !  I  embrace  your  knees,  I  kiss  your 
feet.  By  Allah  the  Great  and  His  prophet,  I  conjure  you. 
She  loves  you  not.  I  would  die  for  you  with  a  laugh  on 
my  lips.  Oh,  the  heart  of  Zeyneb  my  brother  is  black,  as 
his  body  misshapen !  Death  is  woven  for  us  all,  if  you 
continue  this  quest.  Remember  our  love,  our  joy,  —  the 
little  babe  that  died  in  Palermo.  Have  I  ever  deceived  ? 


HOW   IFTIKHAR'S   MESSENGER  RETURNED      245 

If  you  remember  Mary  the  Greek,  I  say  it,  '  Woe,  woe  for 
us  all ! '  " 

But  the  jinns  of  a  headlong  passion  had  mastery  of  Ifti- 
khar  that  day.  He  saw  Morgiana  of  Yemen  at  his  feet; 
but  he  saw  another  —  that  had  been  before  his  eyes  day 
and  night  since  that  hour  in  Palermo  when  Mary  Kur- 
kuas's  lips  had  been  so  near  his  own. 

"  Eblees  seize  you,  woman !  "  came  from  his  throat ;  and 
he  spurned  her.  Morgiana  said  not  a  word ;  without  a 
groan  she  arose,  and  sat  on  the  divan,  looking  upon  him 
tearlessly.  Iftikhar  brattled  forth  a  forced  laugh.  "Yat 
Zeyneb,  let  us  go  back  to  Kerbogha.  Your  sister  is  all 
tears  and  foreboding  to-day.  We  must  not  let  her  sit  over 
the  hemp  again."  And  with  that  the  two  left  the  white 
court  and  returned  to  the  liwan,  where  the  Prince  of  Mosul 
awaited  them.  The  two  chiefs  of  the  Ismaelians  listened 
long  to  the  tales  Zeyneb  had  to  tell  of  the  assembling  of 
the  Franks.  Then  Iftikhar  cried:  — 

"  Glory  to  Allah  !     The  fish  drift  into  the  net !  " 

"  I  do  not  understand,  my  lord,"  said  the  dwarf. 

"  I  know  these  Christians,"  the  chief  replied.  "  Lions 
in  battle,  but  beast-strength  will  not  win  Jerusalem. 
Under  cover  of  destroying  them,  we  can  gather  a  mighty 
host,  unsuspected  by  Barkyarok.  When  they  are  blotted 
out,  we  take  the  sultan  and  kalif  unawares !  The  Most 
High  delivers  the  empire  into  the  hands  of  the  Ismaelians. 
Is  it  not  so,  Kerbogha  ?  " 

And  the  prince  called  Allah  to  witness  that  their 
troubles  were  at  an  end ;  that  three  years  should  see  them 
masters  of  all  Islam.  Only  the  dwarf  shook  his  head,  and 
when  questioned,  replied,  "  Lords,  you  are  mighty  men-of- 
war ;  yet  this  I  say,  '  You  will  fail.'  ' 

"  And  wherefore  ?  "  came  from  Kerbogha. 

"  Because  I  have  been  among  the  Franks,  and  there  is 
a  fire  burning  in  their  hearts  that  a  thousand  leagues  of 
deserts  cannot  blast,  nor  ten  myriad  sword-hands  quench, 
nor  all  your  Ismaelians'  daggers." 

"  You,  too,  prate  evil,  like  your  cursed  sister ! "  cried 
Iftikhar.  Then  he  asked  Zeyneb  very  carefully  as  to  the 


246  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

route  likely  to  be  taken  by  the  Crusaders,  the  time  of  their 
arrival  in  Asia,  and  the  like.  After  that  he  sent  for  a 
certain  Eybek,  one  of  the  trustiest  and  most  skilful  of  the 
"devoted,"  and  dismissed  him  with  this  last  command :  — 
"  But  Richard  Longsword  slay  not.  In  my  own  time 
will  I  deal  with  him,  man  to  man.  Rather  let  him  live,  and 
eat  his  pangs  as  I  have  eaten  mine,  and  know  that  I  have 
borne  away  his  prize." 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

HOW    THEY    SLEW    THE    FIRST    INFIDEL 

RICHARD  and  Mary  made  the  toilsome  journey  across 
Lombardy  and  Dalmatia  with  trials  enough  to  expiate 
many  sins,  before  Count  Raymond's  host  reached  Con- 
stantinople. There  also  Emperor  Alexius  gave  the  Cru- 
saders chill  greeting,  and  earned  many  curses.  Yet  when 
Richard  saw  the  riches  of  the  "  City  guarded  of  God,"  and 
heard  how  the  first  hordes,  led  by  Peter  the  Hermit  and 
Walter  Lackpenny,  had  lighted  like  locusts  on  its  suburbs, 
and  had  sacked  palace  and  church  as  though  despoiling 
very  infidels,  Longsword  did  not  marvel  that  Alexius 
thought  needful  to  deal  warily  with  later  comers.  Here 
for  the  first  time  he  learned  the  fate  of  the  first  peasant 
hordes,  —  how,  to  save  his  city  from  ruin,  Alexius  had 
ferried  them  across  the  Bosphorus.  Left  then  to  the 
Turks'  tender  mercies,  the  Sultan  of  Nicaea  had  pounced 
upon  them  with  his  light  cavalry  and  cut  them  short  in 
their  sins.  Peter  the  Hermit  had  escaped  to  Constanti- 
nople ;  his  followers  had  perished  almost  to  a  man ;  and 
so  began  the  great  outpouring  of  life-blood  in  the  long 
agony  of  the  Crusade. 

Small  wonder  Alexius  Comnenus  saw  in  his  later  guests 
doubtful  friends  or  worse !  Or  that  with  all  his  matchless 
guile  he  sought  pledges  from  them,  that  their  coming  might 
bring  blessing  rather  than  destruction  to  his  empire ;  for 
the  blunt  Franks  openly  swore  that  the  schismatic  Greeks 
were  but  one  degree  better  than  Moslems.  So  day  fol- 
lowed day  of  intrigue  and  lie-giving ;  the  Augustus  bicker- 
ing and  haggling  with  Raymond,  Godfrey,  and  the  other 

247 


248  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Latin  chiefs.  In  the  meantime  Richard  had  time  to 
learn  the  marvels  of  this  great  city  of  the  Caesars.  What 
city  like  it !  Palermo  had  not  one  tithe  its  wealth.  Its 
walls  might  mock  all  the  chivalry  of  France.  Where  in 
the  West  was  one  building  so  notable  as  were  a  score 
along  the  Mesa,  the  great  street  from  the  "Golden  Gate"  to 
the  "Sacred  Palace"?  Everywhere  Corinthian  columns, 
veined  marbles,  bronzes  that  nigh  seemed  breathing, 
palaces,  churches  a  hundred  and  more  ;  great  fora  where 
swelled  a  mighty  traffic;  merchants  whose  shops  boasted 
the  luxurious  wares  of  Persia,  China,  Ind ;  and  multitudes 
on  every  street  —  Greek,  Bulgar,  Russian,  Armenian,  Jew. 
To  Richard  the  scene  was  for  long  an  enchanted  con- 
fusion ;  and  he  marvelled  to  see  how  to  Mary  the  pomp 
and  bustle  alike  came  as  the  common  course  of  life.  When 
he  rode  at  her  side  through  the  humming  city,  or  felt  the 
light  bark  spring  under  the  oar,  as  they  shot  up  the  Golden 
Horn  or  toward  Chrysopolis,  he  was  fain  to  question  how 
any  one  here  born  and  bred  could  find  joy  in  coarser,  wilder 
Frank  land. 

Together  the  two  had  been  in  St.  Sophia,  monarch  of 
churches,  had  seen  the  great  dome  swimming  on  its  sea  of 
light  above  its  forty  windows ;  had  heard  the  choir  sing  as 
angels  the  praise  of  "  Mary,  God-bearer,  Giver  of  Victory." 
And  Richard's  soul  had  been  almost  carried  aloft  by  the 
throb  of  the  stately  service.  Again  in  the  street,  he  said : 
"  Dear  life,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  but  just  plucked  down  from 
heaven.  What  have  I  done  that  you  love  me  so  ;  that  you 
can  so  cheerfully  leave  all  this,  and  dwell  with  me  in  our 
rude,  bare  West  ? "  And  Mary,  as  she  rode  beside  him, 
answered,  smiling:  "Why?  And  can  one  live  forever  in 
the  great  church,  and  eat  and  drink  music  ?  Is  all  life  a 
rowing  from  Chalcedon  to  Prinkipo  ?  Ah,  Richard,  could  I 
be  happy  to  spend  my  days  after  the  manner  of  these  ladies 
of  Constantinople,  —  watched  like  cats  by  sleek  eunuchs, 
and  kept  close  that  our  masters  may  stroke  us  ?  Is  it  better 
to  listen  to  the  music  of  St.  Sophia  and  to  read  Sophocles 
and  Herodotus;  or  to  ride,  hawk  on  fist,  over  the  merry 
country  with  you  at  my  side,  to  feel  the  wild  wind  toss- 


HOW  THEY  SLEW  THE  FIRST   INFIDEL        249 

ing  my  hair,  to  sniff  the  breeze  in  the  free  woods,  and 
think  how  sweet  a  thing  is  life  ?  " 

"  Then  you  are  true  Frank  at  heart !  "  laughed  her  hus- 
band, "despite  your  Greek  name  and  learning." 

"  I  am  the  wife  of  Richard  de  St.  Julien,"  answered  she, 
very  seriously ;  "  and  he  is  a  mighty  baron  of  France." 

So  they  viewed  the  great  city  through  each  other's  eyes, 
and  Richard  grew  humble  as  he  saw  how  much  wit  heaven 
had  granted  those  Greeks  he  once  despised.  At  last  the 
negotiating  ended ;  the  Emperor  came  down  from  his  dig- 
nity ;  the  princes  swore  him  a  loose  manner  of  fealty ; 
Bohemond  of  Tarentum,  the  most  covetous  of  the  chiefs, 
abated  his  demands.  On  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten,  the 
imperial  galleys  bore  the  host  across  the  narrow  strait. 
"  Asia  !  "  the  cry  of  each  knight  as  he  kissed  the  very  soil ; 
at  last  they  were  fairly  set  to  go  to  Jerusalem  ! 

And  now  the  all-reigning  desire  was  to  slay  infidels. 
Not  many  leagues  away  lay  a  great  paynim  stronghold, 
Nicaea,  capital  of  Kilidge  Arslan,  sultan  of  Roum,  —  with 
fighting  promised  of  a  right  knightly  kind.  Merry  the 
music,  and  merrier  the  hearts  of  the  hundred  thousands, 
that  May  season,  as  the  host  swept  in  flashing  steel  and 
unsoiled  bleaunts  past  old  Nicomedia  under  the  blue  Bithyn- 
ian  sky,  the  hills  all  bright  and  green  in  springtime  glory. 

"  Sure,  Our  Lord  is  with  us  !  "  cried  Richard.  "  I  feel  a 
giant's  strength !  "  But  Sebastian  plodded  on  with  bowed 
head.  "Boast  not,"  was  the  reply;  "for  our  sins  we  all 
may  yet  be  sorely  chastened." 

"  But  is  not  God  on  our  side,  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  truly ;  but  it  shall  be  even  as  with  the  band  of 
Gideon.  Of  thirty  and  two  thousand  there  were  left  to  fall 
on  the  Midianites  three  hundred ;  and  to  be  among  these, 
may  we  be  worthy  !  " 

At  this  Richard  laughed,  looking  off  to  the  long  lines  of 
bright  hauberks  and  forests  of  lances,  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  ;  yet  he  had  not  laughed,  had  he  known  that  of  the 
six  hundred  thousand  of  fighting-men  that  crossed  into 
Asia,  scarce  fifty  thousand  were  to  see  with  mortal  eye 
the  Holy  City.  But  for  the  moment  the  skies  seemed  very 


250  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

bright,  and  the  shadows  commenced  creeping  only  when 
forth  from  the  forest  stole  ragged  wretches,  nigh  starving, 
refugees  from  Peter  the  Hermit's  rout.  These  told  how 
Kilidge  Arslan  had  slaughtered  man,  woman,  and  child, 
when  he  stormed  the  camp  of  Walter  Lackpenny.  Then, 
when  the  host  advanced  a  little  farther,  they  came  to  a 
wide  heap  of  bones,  more  than  could  be  counted,  bleaching 
in  the  sun,  and  the  crows  still  a  black  cloud  above ;  for 
here  had  been  the  first  battle  and  the  first  defeat.  Loud 
rose  the  oaths  and  threats  of  vengeance  from  peasant  and 
baron ;  the  lines  advanced  in  closer  array,  the  music  les- 
sened, every  lance  was  ready;  for  now  at  last  they  were 
treading  on  the  soil  of  the  infidel. 

Richard  Longsword  rode  with  the  three  thousand 
pioneers  that  Duke  Godfrey  sent  ahead  to  plant  crosses 
by  the  wayside  as  guides  to  the  hosts  who  came  after. 
Thus  it  befell,  the  saints  granted  that  he  should  be  among 
the  first  knights  to  set  eyes  on  the  unbelievers.  With 
Prince  Tancred,  Bohemond's  valiant  nephew,  —  who  had 
not  forgotten  the  lists  at  Palermo,  —  Richard  saw  a  band 
of  horsemen  whizzing  ahead,  and,  lo,  as  the  Christian 
riders  drew  near,  the  Turks'  little  crooked  bows  began 
spitting  out  barbed  arrows,  which  glanced  harmlessly  on 
the  chain  mail,  but  now  and  then  wounded  a  horse. 
"  Rash  infidels,  —  singled  out  doubtless  by  Satan  for  de- 
struction,"-—so  Prince  Tancred  cried  when  he  couched 
his  lance ;  and  away  went  the  whole  squadron  of  knights. 
The  Seljouks  wheeled  like  lightning,  and  were  off;  their 
bony  Tartar  horses  flew  madly  under  the  spur,  while 
the  men,  bending  dexterously  in  their  saddles,  launched 
their  shafts.  But  destruction  was  upon  them ;  the 
Christians  rode  them  down  one  after  another ;  some  were 
lanced,  some  taken ;  a  few  escaped,  howling  in  a  truly 
devilish  fashion,  to  tell  the  tale  to  their  fellow-unbelievers. 
It  had  been  so  easy  for  the  cavaliers,  that  they  rallied  one 
another  on  the  prowess  of  the  day. 

"  Ha  !  De  St.  Julien,"  Tancred  would  cry,  —  "  how  many 
paladins  have  you  slain  ? "  And  Richard  would  answer, 
"  As  many  as  you,  fair  lord ;  but  who  is  this  grand  soldan 


HOW  THEY  SLEW  THE   FIRST  INFIDEL       251 

you  have  strapped  to  your  stirrup  ?  Will  he  fetch  a 
thousand  byzants'  ransom  ?  " 

They  brought  the  luckless  prisoners  into  camp,  and 
scarce  knew  what  to  do  with  them.  Shock-headed,  small- 
eyed  fellows  they  were, —  all  bones,  teeth,  and  sinew.  None 
could  speak  their  language.  Raymond  of  Agiles,  worthy 
chaplain,  stood  before  them  with  a  crucifix,  and  discoursed 
an  hour  long  in  Latin  on  the  perilous  state  of  their  souls, 
hoping  that  some  word  of  the  truth  might  lodge  in  their 
hearts  through  a  miracle  of  grace.  But  the  wretches  only 
blinked  out  of  their  little  eyes,  and  never  moved  a  muscle 
nor  gave  a  sign  on  their  stolid  faces.  Theroulde  advised 
that,  following  Charlemagne's  precept,  they  should  be  put 
to  death. 

"  None  of  the  Moslems  did  remain 
But  had  turned  Christian,  or  else  was  slain  ! " 

prattled  he,  jauntily;  but  Sebastian  counselled  that  due 
time  for  repentance  should  not  be  denied  them.  "  Let 
them  be  as  the  men  of  Gibeon,"  he  recommended,  "  hewers 
of  wood  and  drawers  of  water."  So  the  poor  Turks  were 
suffered  to  live,  and  Mary  Kurkuas  sent  one  of  her  maids 
to  the  tent  where  they  lay  bound,  with  cordials  for  such  as 
were  wounded.  Many  good  Christians  frowned  at  this, 
and  Count  Pons  of  Balazan  hinted  to  Richard  he  would 
do  well  to  rebuke  his  wife;  "it  was  not  seemly  to  have 
pity  on  God's  enemies."  But  Richard  belched  out  a  great 
oath.  "  By  St.  Michael,  who  saveth  from  peril,  he  who 
bids  me  rebuke  the  Baroness  de  St.  Julien  shall  walk 
up  the  length  of  Trenchefer ! "  and  Count  Pons,  who 
was  a  discreet  man,  had  to  plead  no  desire  for  a  quarrel, 
remembering  the  fate  of  the  Valmonts. 

Thus  tamely  the  Holy  War  began  ;  but  on  the  sixth  of 
May  the  army  found  itself  under  the  walls  of  Nicaea  —  an 
infidel  city  now,  but  forever  sacred  to  Christians,  since  here 
had  been  framed  the  great  Creed.  The  knights  laughed  at 
sight  of  its  lofty  battlements,  as  promising  doughty  fight- 
ing, and  sat  down  for  the  siege,  awaiting  the  coming  of 
Raymond  from  Constantinople.  While  the  siege-engines 


252  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

made  the  firm  rock  quake  with  the  attack,  Richard  and  the 
other  barons  rode  forth  into  the  country  seeking  adventure ; 
for  Kilidge  Arslan  was  sending  down  his  light  riders  from 
the  hills,  and  there  was  steady  skirmishing.  Each  morning 
as  Richard  went  abroad  he  looked  back  at  the  face  of 
Mary — the  lips  smiling,  but  not  the  eyes ;  and  each  evening 
when  Rollo  lumbered  wearily  homeward — perhaps  with  his 
lord's  target  battered  deeply  —  there  would  be  laughter, 
kisses,  and  merry  talk,  as  they  sat  before  the  camp-fire,  saw 
the  red  flames  weaving  pictures,  and  Longsword  told  of  the 
brave  deeds  of  the  day. 

So  sped  two  weeks  around  Nicsea,  and  on  a  Friday 
Richard  sallied  forth  in  company  with  Bohemond  and 
Tancred,  who  led  the  scouting  party.  As  their  troops 
climbed  the  foothills  that  lay  south  of  the  city,  the  eagle 
eyes  of  Tancred  lit  upon  three  men  who  were  stealing 
from  grove  to  grove,  as  if  wishing  anything  rather  than  to 
be  seen.  Then  there  was  a  headlong  race  among  the 
knights  to  see  which  would  strike  first,  and  Rollo  tossed  out 
his  great  hoofs  and  led  them  all.  Thus  Richard  caught  the 
three  just  as  they  were  plunging  in  a  thicket,  and  bade 
them  stand  and  yield.  One  indeed  made  a  bold  break  for 
freedom,  but  just  as  he  dashed  among  the  trees,  Tancred's 
javelin  smote  him,  and  his  fellows  held  up  their  hands  and 
howled  for  quarter.  When  the  two  were  fairly  on  the  way 
back  to  camp  Richard  observed  that  one  was  a  Seljouk,  but 
the  other  —  a  brown,  black-eyed,  wiry-limbed  fellow  - 
cried  out  in  Arabic  when  addressed :  "  Ah,  Christ  be 
praised !  I  am  amongst  Christians  ;  mercy,  kind  lord,  on 
a  fellow-believer,  —  release  these  bands  !  "  "  Christian  ?  " 
protested  Richard,  still  holding  the  cord  knotted  round  the 
prisoner's  hands. 

"I  call  Our  Lord  to  witness,"  exclaimed  the  captive,  "I 
am  a  baptized  Christian  of  Syria,  and  have  endured  cap- 
tivity and  persecution  for  the  sake  of  the  Gospel;  "  and  at 
this  he  cast  down  his  eyes  and  began  to  sigh. 

"  Our  Lady  pity  you !  "  cried  all  the  knights,  touched  to 
the  quick  instantly ;  "  and  how  came  you  with  these  two 
infidels  ? " 


HOW  THEY  SLEW  THE   FIRST  INFIDEL        253 

"  Ah  !  noble  lords,"  declared  the  Arab,  a  great  tear  on 
each  cheek,  "  I  have  been  long  captive  among  the  un- 
believers, the  slave  of  Kilidge  Arslan.  Know  that  on 
Sunday  the  Sultan  will  fall  upon  you  with  all  his  host, 
and  we  three  are  messengers  sent  to  bear  the  tidings  into 
the  city  through  your  lines." 

"  Fellow  !  fellow  !  "  began  Tancred,  pricking  up  his  ears, 
"a  Christian,  and  yet  the  private  messenger  of  the  infidels  ? " 

"Yes,  Cid,"  was  the  ready  answer,  "I  have,  alas!"  — 
another  great  sigh  —  "  been  false  to  my  faith  and  aposta- 
tized ;  yet  I  said  in  my  heart,  '  Let  me  go  with  these  mes- 
sengers, and  by  betraying  them  to  the  Franks,  undo  my 
own  sin  and  gain  liberty  among  Christian  people.' " 

"  By  St.  Theodore,"  swore  Tancred,  "  you  speak 
smoothly ;  if  it  is  as  you  say,  you  shall  not  go  unrewarded, 
and  Bishop  Adhemar  shall  give  you  full  absolution." 

"  Even  so,  Cid,"  replied  the  Arab,  whose  hands  Richard 
had  set  at  liberty,  but  who  made  no  effort  to  fly.  "  Put  to 
torture  this  Turk,  my  companion ;  he  will  confess  all  that  I 
have  told." 

"  You  are  a  stout-limbed  varlet,"  commented  Bohemond, 
the  sly-eyed  Prince  of  Tarentum ;  "  you  shall  serve  with 
me  in  my  suite  as  guide  and  interpreter,  for  language  and 
country  you  must  know  well."  But  the  Arab  only  bowed, 
and  answered  :  — 

"  My  lord  is  a  fountain  of  generosity,  yet  it  is  my  desire 
to  seek  service  with  the  husband  of  that  very  noble  lady 
the  Princess  Mary  Kurkuas,  who  it  is  told  is  the  great  emir, 
Richard  Longsword." 

"St.  Michael,"  burst  out  Richard,  "I  am  he!  Yet  why 
do  you  call  my  wife  by  name  ? " 

The  stranger  salaamed  almost  to  the  dust. 

"  God  is  gracious  beyond  my  sins  in  granting  so  noble 
a  lord  as  husband  of  the  daughter  of  my  dear  master. 
Know  that  fifteen  years  past,  before  the  Moslems  took 
Antioch,  I  was  house-servant  to  Manuel  Kurkuas,  '  domes- 
tic '  of  Syria.  Oftentimes  have  I  held  the  very  august 
princess  on  my  knee,  and  even  in  her  childhood  all  declared 
she  was  of  beauty  passing  St.  Thecla." 


254  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Richard  had  only  to  hear  one  praise  Mary  Kurkuas  to 
become  that  man's  friend  straightway.  And  he  put  his 
hand  on  the  hilt  of  Trenchefer,  taking  oath  upon  the  relics 
that  if  the  stranger,  who  called  himself  Hossein,  told  an 
honest  tale,  he  should  never  lack  a  patron.  Only  Tancred, 
viewing  the  Arab  with  his  sea-green  eyes,  was  heard  to 
remark,  "  This  fellow  invokes  the  saints  glibly,  but  his 
faith  has  more  profession  in  it  than  is  to  my  liking." 

However,  when  they  brought  the  two  before  Duke  God- 
frey and  threatened  the  Turk  with  torture,  he  broke  down 
and  told  the  interpreter  a  tale  exactly  like  Hossein's  —  that 
Kilidge  Arslan  waited  in  the  mountains  with  a  great  host 
and  would  fall  on  the  besiegers  the  next  day.  So  the 
Arab's  credit  was  high  when  Richard  brought  him  to  the 
tent  of  his  wife.  Hossein  cast  one  glance  upon  her,  and 
fell  upon  his  knees,  kissing  her  robe  and  crying :  — 

"  Praises,  praises  to  St.  John  of  Damascus !  I  behold 
the  daughter  of  my  beloved  lord  Manuel,  and  God  has 
verily  clothed  her  as  an  angel  of  light!  " 

"  Good  man,"  said  the  Greek,  a  little  confused,  "  I  know 
you  not.  When  have  you  served  my  father  ?  " 

"  O  preeminently  august  lady  !  "  broke  forth  the  Arab 
again.  "  Do  you  not  remember  Hossein,  who  was  in 
the  Caesar  Manuel's  palace  at  Antioch  ?  How  he  told 
you  the  tales  of  his  people  and  sang  you  the  wondrous 
song  of  Antar,  and  the  stories  of  the  jinns  and  the  spirits 
of  the  air?" 

"  I  was  indeed  in  Antioch  when  my  father  ruled  the 
city,  but  I  was  very  young.  I  recall  nothing,"  replied 
Mary. 

"Alas!  I  had  hopes  your  memory  had  not  failed," 
declared  Hossein,  still  kneeling ;  "  yet  it  is  true,  O 
noblest  of  the  Greeks,  you  were  very  young.  Enough ; 
my  devotion  can  repay  the  daughter  what  I  owe  to  the 
father.  For  the  most  excellent  Caesar  saved  me  from  cruel 
death  at  the  hands  of  the  infidels,  my  fellow-countrymen." 

"  You  are  an  honorable  man,"  said  the  lady,  touched 
at  his  demonstration,  "to  discharge  a  debt  incurred  so 
long  ago.  Perhaps"  —  and  she  ran  over  all  her  early 


HOW  THEY  SLEW  THE   FIRST   INFIDEL        255 

girlhood  in  her  memory  —  "I  recall  something  of  you, 
yet  my  father  had  many  servants.  I  crave  pardon  if  I 
forget.  And  how  have  you  fared  all  this  while  among  the 
Turks  ? " 

Whereupon  Hossein  flew  into  the  most  pitiful  tale  as  to 
his  life  of  captivity  and  persecution,  so  that  the  lady's 
eyes  grew  wet,  and  her  heart  right  sore. 

"  Good  Christian,"  said  she,  at  last,  "  surely  you  have 
endured  much  for  your  faith.  God  grant  that  under  like 
persecution  I  do  not  apostatize  more  deeply.  And  what 
may  I  do  for  you  ?  Have  you  home,  friends,  kin  ?  " 

"  Alas !  most  august  princess,  Heaven  has  taken  all 
away.  Let  me  be  your  slave,  your  bodyguard,  and  sleep 
without  your  tent  by  night  with  a  naked  sword.  Perilous 
times  await,  and"  —  here  he  choked  in  his  speech  —  "the 
foe  shall  only  touch  you  by  stepping  across  my  poor  body  !  " 

"  You  are  a  noble  and  pious  man,"  said  Mary,  smiling. 
"  It  shall  be  as  you  say.  I  will  ask  the  Baron  to  make 
you  my  guardsman."  Whereupon  Hossein  invoked  all 
the  saints  of  the  calendar  to  witness  his  delight ;  and  the 
princess  had  her  varlets  and  maids  clothe  and  feed  him. 
When  Herbert  and  Theroulde  came  to  look  at  him,  how- 
ever, they  wagged  their  heads ;  and  Sylvana,  the  nurse, 
who  went  wherever  her  mistress  went,  came  boldly  to 
Mary,  saying :  — 

"  Save  for  his  pious  talk,  we  all  swear  this  man  is  infidel. 
I  knew  all  your  father's  servants  at  Antioch,  and  he  was 
not  of  them." 

But  Mary  answered  her  sharply :  — 

"  Must  one  have  a  white  skin  to  love  Our  Lord  ?  No 
man  could  come  before  me  with  such  a  lie.  Your  memory 
fails  you.  The  Caesar  had  a  great  household.  Besides, 
this  Hossein  has  just  revealed  all  the  plots  of  Kilidge 
Arslan,  and  my  husband  says  he  is  to  be  trusted." 
The  word  of  Richard  Longsword  was  not  to  be  contra- 
dicted before  his  wife,  as  Sylvana  knew  well;  so  she  held 
her  peace.  Only  Theroulde  arranged  with  Herbert  that 
one  of  them  should  always  watch  their  lady's  tent  along 
with  the  suspected  Hossein. 


256  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

But  the  Arab's  revelations  proved  true  to  the  letter.  On 
the  next  day,  while  Raymond  of  Toulouse  with  the  rear  of 
the  Provencals  was  making  his  way  to  camp,  three  huge 
bands  of  Seljouk  cavalry  swooped  down  on  them  and  on  the 
forces  of  Duke  Godfrey.  Then  followed  a  battle  of  the 
true  knightly  sort,  the  Turks  trying  what  they  became  too 
wise  to  attempt  again, — to  ride  down  the  Franks  in  fair 
onset,  with  sheer  weight  of  numbers.  Long  and  fierce  the 
struggle;  every  Christian  chief  proved  a  paladin.  General- 
ship there  was  not;  every  baron  and  his  knights  fought 
his  own  little  battle  with  the  hordesmen  confronting. 
Then  in  the  end  the  surviving  Seljouks  were  driven 
from  the  field  like  smoke ;  the  heads  of  their  fallen  com- 
rades slung  into  Nicaea  by  the  engines,  forewarning  of  what 
awaited  the  garrison.  There  were  masses  for  the  Christian 
dead,  the  first  martyrs  ;  Te  Deums  for  the  victory.  Richard 
Longsword,  men  cried,  had  slain  as  many  infidels  as  Duke 
Godfrey's  self.  When  he  stood  in  his  bloody  hauberk 
before  Mary  that  night,  she  cast  her  arms  about  him  and 
kissed  him,  saying:  "O  sweet  lord,  how  beautiful  you 
must  be  in  battle !  How  God  must  rejoice  in  your  holy 
service ! " 

"  Dear  life,"  answered  Longsword,  pressing  her  to  his 
mailed  breast,  "  it  is  when  I  think  of  the  pure  saint  on  earth 
who  is  praying  for  me  that  my  arm  grows  strong." 

"  Then  it  must  be  very  strong,  Richard,"  said  she,  with 
half  a  laugh,  half  a  sob,  "  for  I  love  you  more  than  words 
may  tell;  and  my  prayers  are  many  and  all  for  you." 

So  they  were  glad  that  evening,  —  at  least  all  who  had 
not  lost  a  friend.  But  when  Mary  had  gone  to  rest,  Her- 
bert talked  gravely  with  Richard. 

"  Little  lord,"  said  he,  affectionately,  "  put  no  trust  in 
this  Hossein.  The  saints  are  on  his  tongue,  yet  he  stum- 
bled when  Sebastian  tried  to  make  him  say  the  Creed, 
even  in  his  own  Arabic  ;  and  Theroulde  swears  that  to-night 
when  he  thought  none  watched,  he  knelt  toward  Mecca 
in  Moslem  fashion,  as  if  to  pray,  and  muttered  the  incanta- 
tions of  their  Al-Koran." 

Richard   laughed.      "Theroulde   smells   danger   at   all 


HOW  THEY  SLEW  THE   FIRST   INFIDEL       257 

times ;  and  Sebastian  thinks,  to  speak  Arabic  is  to  squint 
toward  perdition.  Hossein  has  revealed  a  secret  which 
has  given  the  infidels  the  mightiest  stroke  that  was 
theirs  since  Charlemagne  marched  to  Spain.  And  yet  you 
accuse  him  of  being  one  of  them  ?  Have  shame  for  your 
suspicions  on  a  persecuted  fellow -Christian  !  Treat  him  as 
a  brother,  and  pray  that  your  own  souls  be  in  no  greater 
peril  than  his." 

"  Nevertheless  —  "  began  Herbert. 

"  I  hear  no  more,"  replied  his  master,  abruptly  ;  "  I  must 
go  to  rest.  A  cursed  story  told  by  Count  Renard's  jon- 
glenr  runs  in  my  head ;  —  how  Robert  the  Norman  and 
his  father,  King  William,  once  fought  hand  to  hand, 
helmets  closed,  and  Robert  nigh  killed  his  father  ere  they 
knew  one  another.  St.  Michael,  what  if  Musa  and  I 
should  meet  thus  !  But  I  must  sleep." 

Herbert  grumbled  long  to  himself,  and  Theroulde  and 
he  renewed  their  vow  never  to  leave  Hossein  a  moment 
alone  to  work  his  own  devices. 


CHAPTER   XXV 

HOW   DUKE    GODFREY    SAVED   THE   DAY 

THE  host  lay  before  Nicaea  many  a  weary  day  before 
the  starved  and  despairing  garrison  declared  for  Emperor 
Alexius  and  the  Franks  saw  the  Greek  standards  floating 
from  the  battlements.  Loud  was  the  rage  against  this 
trick  that  robbed  them  of  the  plunder  of  so  fair  a  city. 
"  Back  to  Constantinople !  "  howled  the  men-at-arms  and 
petty  nobles.  "The  Greeks  are  schismatics  and  scarce 
better  than  Moslem ! "  But  the  judicious  presents  of 
Alexius  silenced  the  cries  of  the  chiefs,  and  they  in  turn 
controlled  their  people,  though  from  that  hour  little  love 
was  wasted  on  the  Emperor.  On  the  twenty-fifth  day  of 
June  the  Army  of  the  Cross  struck  its  tents  about  Nicaea, 
and  set  out  for  the  march  across  Phrygia,  through  the 
heart  of  the  dominions  of  Kilidge  Arslan. 

Soon  after  starting  the  host  divided;  for  water  and 
forage  would  be  none  too  plentiful,  the  guides  said,  in  the 
plains  and  mountains  before,  and  to  keep  together  might 
mean  ruin.  So  Duke  Godfrey  led  away  the  larger  half  of 
the  army  with  Raymond,  Adhemar,  and  Hugh  the  Great ; 
while  the  second  corps  followed  Bohemond,  Tancred,  and 
Robert  of  Normandy.  Being  himself  Norman,  Longsword 
went  with  this  last  division,  although  he  would  gladly  have 
kept  company  with  the  Duke  of  Bouillon.  He  was  ill 
pleased  to  see  with  how  little  order  each  host  marched,  and 
how  scant  was  the  effort  to  keep  close  enough  each  to  the 
other  for  help  in  case  of  need.  Still,  for  a  day  or  two,  all 
went  well.  They  passed  through  a  pleasant  rolling  coun- 
try, with  abundant  grass  and  water.  All  the  villages,  to 

258 


HOW   DUKE   GODFREY  SAVED  THE   DAY       259 

be  sure,  had  been  burned  by  the  Turks,  and  scarce  a 
peasant  met  them.  But  around  them  like  an  invisible  net 
the  Sultan's  light-horsemen  hovered,  and  now  and  then  the 
long  line  of  baggage  mules  and  plodding  infantry  would  be 
attacked,  a  few  beasts  hamstrung,  a  few  footmen  wounded, 
before  the  knights  could  charge  out  and  chase  the  Seljouks 
over  the  hills.  On  the  third  day,  however,  the  attacks  grew 
more  violent.  Longsword  had  been  sent  back  by  Bohe- 
mond  to  cover  the  trailing  rear-guard,  where  were  the 
staggering  sick,  the  defenceless  jongleurs,  and  the  women 
in  heavy  carriages.  As  the  afternoon  advanced,  he  sent  a 
message  to  the  Count  of  Chartres  that  unless  he  had 
speedy  succor  his  St.  Julien  men  could  not  hold  back  the 
thickening  squadrons ;  and  quick  as  the  reinforcements 
came,  there  was  a  sturdy  mette —  lance  to  lance,  sword  to 
cimeter  —  before  the  Turks  broke.  When  at  last  they 
were  flying,  Richard  pushed  the  sure-footed  Rollo  up  a 
hill  where  any  horse  saving  he  would  have  stumbled;  and 
behold,  from  the  hilltop  Longsword  could  see  a  score  of 
heavy  dust  clouds  rising,  north,  south,  east,  west,  —  cavalry 
galloping.  When  he  rode  down  he  met  Tancred  himself. 

"Fair  lord,"  was  his  report,  "the  infidels  surely  plan  to 
attack  us  in  force  to-morrow.  If  my  eyes  are  good,  there 
are  thousands  of  Turkish  horse  around  us.  Kilidge  Ars- 
lan  must  have  called  round  him  all  his  easternmost  hordes, 
and  intends  battle.  I  advise  that  before  nightfall  a  strong 
escort  be  sent  to  Duke  Godfrey,  bidding  him  hasten  to  our 
relief." 

"  By  the  Mass ! "  swore  Tancred,  his  knightly  honor 
touched.  "  Of  all  men,  you,  De  St.  Julien,  should  be  the 
last  to  cry  '  Rescue ! '  We  are  well  able  to  scatter  Kilidge 
Arslan's  thousands,  and  Godfrey  shall  rob  us  of  no  glory." 

So  Richard  held  his  peace,  though  for  some  strange 
reason  his  heart  was  not  as  gay  as  it  should  have  been 
when  about  to  engage  in  glorious  battle  with  the  infidel. 
He  accompanied  the  rear  as  it  toiled  into  the  encampment, 
already  plotted  by  the  van.  Longsword  saw  with  anxiety 
that,  though  the  camp  was  protected  in  the  rear  by  a  reedy 
marsh,  and  on  one  side  by  a  shallow  stream,  no  palisades 


260  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

were  being  raised,  nor  any  other  defences.  The  weary 
men  set  their  tents  as  they  might,  lighted  fires,  feasted, 
and  were  asleep,  heavy  with  the  toilsome  march.  Mary 
Kurkuas  stood  at  the  tent  door  as  was  her  wont,  and 
greeted  her  husband. 

"  You  ran  more  than  your  share  of  peril  to-day.  The 
fighting  was  hard.  Ah  !  I  was  frightened." 

"At/"  cried  Richard,  taking  off  his  heavy  helm,  "if  I 
never  come  nearer  death  than  to-day,  like  a  stork  I  shall 
live  to  be  a  thousand.  But  there  is  a  bandage  on  your 
wrist  —  what?  blood  ?"  and  his  face  grew  troubled. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mary,  smiling  now,  and  holding  up  the 
wrist.  "  While  you  were  so  valiantly  guarding  the  rear,  a 
squadron  of  Turks  flew  out  of  a  defile  just  before  us,  and 
ere  Prince  Bohemond  could  ride  up  with  his  knights,  had 
charged  very  close,  shooting  arrows." 

"Mother  of  Mercies,  you  were  in  danger!  But  were 
you  frightened  ? " 

"  Not  till  it  was  all  past.  For  Hossein  sprang  in  front 
of  me,  at  his  own  peril,  and  covered  me  with  his  target, 
catching  three  shafts  upon  it  otherwise  meant  for  me.  Then 
the  Prince  flew  up  with  his  band  and  chased  the  Turks 
away ;  and  I  found  that  my  wrist  was  bleeding  where  a 
barb  had  scratched." 

"Ha,  Herbert!"  cried  his  master,  "will  not  my  lady 
make  a  noble  cavalier  ?  She  wins  honorable  wounds  ;  she 
shall  have  lance  and  hauberk,  and  ride  beside  me.  As  for 
Hossein,  what  do  you  say  ?  Be  he  Moslem  or  Christian, 
he  has  shielded  your  mistress  at  risk  of  life."  The  man-at- 
arms  scratched  the  thin  hairs  on  his  crown. 

"  True  ;  perchance  I  have  wronged  him.  Yet  yesterday 
we  could  not  persuade  him  to  taste  a  bit  of  pork,  and  he 
has  that  cast  of  eye  which  'wise  women'  call  malignant." 

"  You  are  all  suspicions  and  jealousy,"  declared  Mary, 
pouting.  "  Did  I  let  you,  I  believe  you  would  clap  Hossein 
in  fetters." 

"  I  would  I  saw  them  on  his  wrists ! "  muttered  the 
veteran,  as  he  went  away  to  his  supper.  But  Richard  and 
Mary  sat  a  long  time  before  their  tent,  sipping  the  spiced 


HOW  DUKE   GODFREY  SAVED  THE   DAY       261 

wine  of  Lesbos  they  had  brought  from  Constantinople,  and 
watching  the  stars  peep  out  one  by  one  from  the  deep- 
ening sky.  The  camp  buzzed  all  about,  yet  dimly,  as  if 
each  man  was  in  love  with  quiet.  It  was  very  warm,  and 
the  soft  wind  bore  the  scent  of  drying  wild-flowers  and 
parching  heather,  as  it  crept  down  from  the  sun-loved 
uplands.  It  was  a  sweet  and  peaceful  hour,  one  which 
stayed  as  a  pure  and  holy  vision  in  both  their  minds  for 
many  a  long,  sad  day. 

"  Sweetheart,"  said  Richard,  when  they  grew  tired  of 
counting  the  budding  stars,  "  though  Prince  Tancred  and 
the  rest  will  not  hear  it,  there  will  be  a  mighty  battle  to- 
morrow. I  have  seen  Kilidge  Arslan's  hosts  all  around  us. 
We  shall  fight  in  the  morning  as  never  at  Nicaea." 

"Ah !  Richard,"  answered  Mary,  still  in  laughing  mood, 
"  you  must  let  me  ride  with  you.  See !  "  —  and  she  caught 
the  dagger  from  his  belt  —  "  can  I  not  strike  as  manfully  as 
any  dapper  little  squire,  and  make  the  infidels  flee  before 
me,  as  ever  did  your  Frank  hero,  great  Roland  ? " 

"Verily,"  cried  her  husband,  his  eyes  on  her  face,  "I 
think  if  the  Moslems  saw  you  coming,  they  would  drop 
every  man  his  sword,  —  your  darts  would  pierce  them." 

"  My  darts  ?  "  asked  she. 

"  Yes,  truly, — these,"  and  he  laid  his  fingers  on  her  eyes. 

"  No,"  was  the  answer,  and  she  shook  him  off.  "  Listen : 
my  eyes  are  my  sorrow,  —  first,  because  they  captured  the 
Baron  de  St.  Julien,  who  deserves  no  such  bondage  ;  "  then, 
more  gravely,  "next,  because  they  nigh  undid  Louis  de 
Valmont ;  and  last  —  O  Richard  !  still  I  have  mighty  fear 
of  Iftikhar  Eddauleh ;  he  is  seeking  your  life,  and  God 
knows  whether  his  unholy  passion  for  me  is  still  in  his 
heart !  Swear,  swear  to  me,  Richard,  that  rather  with  your 
own  hands  you  will  take  my  life  than  suffer  me  to  fall  into 
tliat  man's  power.  He  is  Moslem,  but  on  that  account  I 
do  not  hate  him ;  yet  death  were  better  than  to  be  his 
bride !  " 

Richard  was  accustomed  to  these  changing  flashes  of  gay 
and  grave ;  but  he  knew  there  was  no  common  ring  of  en- 
treaty in  Mary's  last  words,  and  he  answered  very  soberly:  — 


262  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  Heart  of  my  heart,  I  am  here  in  all  my  strength,  with 
Trenchefer  at  my  side,  and  around  are  thousands  of  good 
Christian  knights.  When  they  are  all  slain,  and  I  also, 
then  you  may  fear  Iftikhar  Eddauleh.  Till  then,  think  of 
likelier  things  to  dread." 

Mary  was  silent,  watching  the  stars  for  a  moment,  then 
replied :  — 

"  You  say  well,  Richard,  you  are  very  strong.  I  am 
proud  of  you.  Yet  I  have  a  strange  fear  that  all  your 
strength  cannot  shield  me  from  Iftikhar.  But  no  more  of 
my  folly,  —  perchance  I  am  moonstruck.  Let  me  go  to 
the  tent,  to  say  one  prayer  to  the  Holy  Mother  to  keep  you 
safe  to-morrow,  and  then  to  sleep,  to  dream  how  happy  we 
shall  be  when  we  go  back  to  France." 

So  he  kissed  her ;  and  when  the  flaps  of  the  tent  had 
closed  behind  her  and  her  maids,  he  called  Hossein. 

"  Good  fellow,  to-morrow  we  expect  battle.  To-day  you 
have  been  a  gallant  guard  of  the  princess.  Remain  by  her 
to-morrow ;  defend  her  with  your  life.  As  I  live,  if  you 
do  your  duty,  reward  shall  not  fail." 

"Cid,"  answered  the  Arab,  kissing  the  Baron's  feet,  "I 
hear  and  obey.  I  swear,  on  my  head,  no  unfriendly  hand 
shall  touch  your  very  noble  wife." 

As  Richard  looked  about,  he  saw  Theroulde  standing  in 
the  firelight.  "  And  you,  too,  Sir  Minstrel,"  said  he,  "  shall 
stand  guard  with  Hossein  over  your  lady."  As  he  spoke, 
he  thought  he  heard  a  low  curse,  "  Eblees  confound  him  !  " 
burst  from  under  Hossein's  breath.  "Ha!  What  said 
you,  Arab  ? "  asked  Longsword. 

"  I  was  but  sighing  as  I  thought  of  my  many  sins,  Cid," 
answered  the  fellow,  very  dutifully. 

Richard  did  not  reply,  but  repeated  to  himself  ere  he  fell 
asleep  :  "  It  is  as  well  Theroulde  will  be  with  Mary.  De- 
spite everything,  I  mislike  this  Hossein,  for  some  reason." 

Richard  slept  heavily,  and  was  awakened  by  a  hand  on 
the  shoulder.  It  was  the  St.  Julien  knight,  De  Carnac, 
who  commanded  the  watch  of  his  baron's  command. 

"  Up,  fair  lord !  "  the  warrior  was  urging,  "  the  Seljouks 


HOW   DUKE   GODFREY   SAVED  THE   DAY       263 

are  closing  round.  Our  sentinels  are  being  driven  in. 
I  am  bidden  summon  you  to  council  with  the  Prince  of 
Tarentum."  And  with  this  Richard  staggered  to  his  feet 
and  stared  around.  It  was  very  dark  in  the  tent  as  he  put 
on  hauberk  and  helmet.  Without  there  was  hum  of  many 
voices,  distant  shouting,  baggage  cattle  chafing  and  clink- 
ing their  chains,  and  presently  a  clear  French  war-cry, 
doubly  piercing  in  the  night,  "  Montjoye  Saint  Denis  ! " 
A  moment  later  a  trumpet  blared  out,  then  another  and 
another. 

Richard  stepped  from  the  tent ;  the  sky  was  graying  in 
the  east;  encampment  —  men,  horses,  all  —  were  vague 
black  shadows  just  visible.  He  was  buckling  fast  Trenche- 
fer  when  the  flaps  of  the  next  tent  parted,  and  forth  came 
a  figure  —  his  wife.  In  the  dim  twilight  he  could  only  see 
the  whiteness  of  her  bare  throat  and  the  soft,  unbound  hair, 
waving  on  forehead  and  shoulders.  She  came  to  him,  and 
embraced  him  without  a  word.  Then  at  last  she  said, 
"  Now,  dear  life,  you  must  ride  out  and  fight  God's  battle, 
and  if  I  cannot  gallop  at  your  side,  you  shall  know  that 
my  heart  and  my  prayers  ride  with  you;  and  you  must  be 
very  brave  and  very  strong,  and  I  will  wait  here  and  be 
brave  also." 

"  Ah  !  beautiful,"  answered  he,  before  he  swung  into  the 
saddle  of  the  waiting  Rollo,  "  God  will  have  pity  on  me  for 
your  dear  sake.  You  know  no  words  can  tell  you  all  I  feel." 

"  Our  Lord  be  with  you  !  "  and  with  that  word  upon  her 
lips  she  kissed  him;  and  he  mounted,  took  lance,  and  rode 
away,  with  all  the  St.  Julien  men  saving  a  few  grooms, 
also  Theroulde  and  Hossein,  who  were  to  remain  by  the 
tents. 

With  the  breath  of  the  last  kiss  on  his  lips,  and  his 
head  held  very  high,  Richard  Longsword  led  his  troop  out 
of  the  gray  maze  of  the  encampment.  Battle  was  before 
him  —  a  great  battle  against  countless  infidels,  such  as  he 
and  his  peers  had  often  made  merry  to  think  of;  yet 
Longsword  felt  no  joy  that  morning.  Fear  for  himself  he 
had  none ;  the  battle  might  sweep  over  him,  the  war-horns 
blow  his  funeral  mass  —  what  matter  ?  Yet  in  a  way  his 


264  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

heart  was  sad.  It  would  have  been  better  had  Mary  re- 
mained at  La  Haye ;  better  were  he  to  fight  for  himself 
and  the  cause  of  Christ  alone.  But  he  knew  not  why  he 
should  grieve.  That  the  Seljouks  should  so  prevail  over 
the  soldiers  of  the  Cross  as  to  menace  the  encampment, 
scarce  entered  his  head.  Only  he  had  been  happier, 
could  he  have  recalled  his  command  to  Hossein,  taken  the 
Arab  in  his  troops,  left  another  to  guard  the  lady.  But 
the  fellow  had  twice  proved  his  devotion.  Why  mistrust  ? 
And  all  such  thoughts  sped  from  his  mind  when  he  saw, 
dimly  ahead,  armed  cavaliers  sitting  on  their  tall  destrers, 
and  Prince  Bohemond's  voice  called  :  — 

"  Who  rides  ?     De  St.  Julien  ? " 

"  The  same,  my  lord  prince  ;  what  news  ?  " 

"  Praise  St.  Michael,  you  are  here !  We  need  all  our 
wits.  The  infidels  are  closing  round,  and  dark  as  it  is  we 
can  hear  the  hoof-beats  of  tens  of  thousands.  We  must 
prepare  for  battle  with  the  dawn." 

"  And  have  you  taken  my  advice,  my  Lord  Tancred," 
asked  Richard,  "  and  sent  messengers  to  the  Duke  ?  " 

"  Two  knights  and  ten  men-at-arms  have  ridden  an  hour 
since,"  replied  Tancred,  for  he  was  among  the  horsemen. 
"  Yet  I  would  vow  Our  Lady  two  gold  candlesticks,  were 
I  sure  they  could  get  through  the  hordes.  You  may  mock 
me,  De  St.  Julien,  if  you  will,  for  not  heeding  your  warn- 
ing last  evening." 

"  Mockery  is  of  little  profit  this  morning,  my  lord," 
said  Richard,  soberly  ;  "  how  may  I  serve  you  ? " 

But  at  this  moment  came  another  cavalier,  in  armor  that 
gleamed  in  the  wan  light,  and  behind  him  a  great  train. 

"  Hail,  fair  Duke  Robert !  "  cried  Bohemond ;  "  what 
news  do  your  outposts  bring  you  ? " 

The  son  of  William  the  Conqueror  swore  a  deep  Nor- 
man oath,  and  replied :  "In  my  quarter  arrows  pelt  like 
hailstones ;  all  the  fiends  are  broke  loose.  They  only 
wait  the  light  to  strike  us.  God  grant  we  are  all  well 
shriven,  for  we  may  sleep  with  the  saints  ere  another 
morning  !  " 

"Fair  lords,"  said  Tancred,  "we  must  go  to  our  posts 


HOW   DUKE   GODFREY  SAVED  THE   DAY       265 

and  array  the  battle.  De  St.  Julien,  bid  the  varlets  and 
footmen  place  the  baggage  wagons  round  the  camp,*  to 
make  what  barricade  they  may.  After  that,  put  your  men 
at  my  right,  for  by  the  Virgin,  we  shall  see  stout  fighting!  " 
So  the  council  broke  up,  there  being  nothing  to  advise 
save  to  fight  heartily.  Richard  sent  the  heralds  through 
the  camp  and,  with  cry  and  trumpet,  roused  the  sleeping 
host,  though  the  alarms  of  the  night  already  had  waked 
many.  A  great  confusion,  there  was  :  a  thousand  voices 
shouting  at  once,  women  wailing,  war-horns  blaring, 
wheels  creaking,  all  trebly  loud  in  the  murk  of  the 
breaking  day.  Long  before  the  wagon  barrier,  also,  was 
as  it  should  be,  a  great  cry  began  to  swell :  "  The  foe ! 
the  foe  ! "  and  the  infantry  commenced  to  bang  their 
shields  and  clatter  their  pike-staffs,  for  discipline  was 
none  the  best.  Richard  rode  away  with  his  hundred  St. 
Julien  troopers,  —  men  that  he  could  trust  to  the  last 
pinch, — and  drew  them  up  beside  the  personal  command 
of  Prince  Tancred.  Prince  Bohemond  and  the  Norman 
Duke  had  arrayed  their  mailed  cavalry  in  a  solid  rank, 
the  line  stretching  far  down  the  plain,  every  man  in  com- 
plete armor,  with  a  good  horse  between  his  knees.  As  the 
light  strengthened,  Richard  could  see  the  long  files  of 
lances,  ten  thousand  bright  pennons  whipping  the  wind, 
and  the  new  sun  shone  on  as  many  burnished  casques  and 
flashing  targets  —  noble  sight ;  yet  not  so  strange  as  that 
which  he  beheld  when  he  looked  northward  just  east  of  the 
little  town  called  Dorylaeum.  The  hills,  so  far  as  eye  could 
reach,  were  covered  with  an  innumerable  host,  thousands 
on  thousands,  and  all  on  horseback.  He  could  see  the 
gay  red  and  green  turbans,  the  bright  scarfs  and  mantles, 
pennons,  banners  —  past  counting;  and  even  as  the  sun 
lifted  above  the  hills,  and  sent  its  weird  red  light  over  the 
valley,  a  mighty  roar  of  tambour,  kettledrum,  and  cymbal 
came  rolling  from  the  foe,  and  a  shout  from  myriad 
throats,  wild,  beastlike,  shrill  as  the  winter  wind.  With 
the  shout,  as  if  at  magician's  wand,  all  the  hills  seemed 
moving;  and  the  Seljouk  hordes  charged  straight  upon 
the  Christian  lines. 


266  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

It  was  a  wondrous  spectacle;  far  as  the  eye  might 
pierce,  only  horsemen,  and  more  horsemen,  speeding  at 
headlong  gallop.  "  Christ  pity  us !  "  more  than  one 
bronze-faced  cavalier  muttered  in  his  beard.  And  some 
cried,  "  Charge  !  "  But  Tancred  held  them  steady.  The 
hordes  swept  on  as  one  man,  nearer,  so  near  that  the  dust- 
cloud  blew  in  the  Christians'  faces ;  and  all  braced  them- 
selves for  the  shock.  But  just  as  the  crash  was  about  to 
tremble  on  the  air,  lo !  the  foremost  Turks  had  wheeled 
like  lightning,  and  arrows  flew  out  that  darkened  the  sky 
by  their  number.  And  as  the  first  horde  rolled  off  to  one 
flank,  still  shooting,  the  next,  the  next,  and  yet  another 
whirled  past,  pouring  forth  their  volleys. 

"  Stand  fast,  Christians ! "  was  Tancred's  shout,  as  the 
first  shafts  dashed  harmlessly  on  the  good  mail ;  and  for  a 
moment  the  Franks  sat,  their  steeds  immovable,  and  let 
the  blast  of  steel  beat  on  them.  Yet  only  for  a  moment ; 
though  but  one  arrow  in  a  hundred  struck  home,  here  and 
there  men  were  bleeding,  wounded  horses  plunging.  Each 
instant  Crusaders  were  falling;  should  they  sit  forever  and 
be  shot  to  death  ?  Duke  Robert  was  the  first  to  charge. 
"  Dex  att  /"  cried  his  Norman  knights,  and  lance  in  rest 
they  spurred  straight  in  the  face  of  the  wheeling  myriads. 
Vain  courage!  A  few  Seljouks  they  struck  and  rode 
over  in  a  twinkling  ;  but  the  vast  horde  parted  before  them 
like  water,  and  rained  in  arrows  and  ever  more  arrows 
from  safe  distance.  The  Duke  regained  his  lines,  but  one- 
fourth  of  his  men  had  been  stricken,  and  the  terrible  horse- 
archers  were  shooting  a  more  deadly  shower  than  ever. 

"The  foot!  the  crossbowmen ! "  was  the  cry  of  the 
raging  knights.  And  their  archers  and  arbalisters,  coming 
to  the  front,  tried  to  return  the  fire  as  best  they  could. 
Many  a  Seljouk  rode  no  more  after  their  volley,  but  their 
shafts  were  as  a  bucket  on  a  holocaust.  Horsemen,  and 
yet  more  horsemen,  were  rolling  in.  More  and  more  rapid 
the  arrow  fire,  the  sky  was  dark  with  flying  dust,  the  ear 
deafened  with  the  thunders  of  hoofs  uncounted,  the  clash 
of  the  kettledrums,  the  yell  and  howl  of  the  Seljouks. 
Flesh  and  blood  could  stand  the  strain  no  more.  Either 


HOW  DUKE   GODFREY  SAVED  THE   DAY       267 

the  Turks  must  be  routed,  or  the  Franks  would  perish  to 
a  man. 

"  Charge  !  Charge  !  "  this  time  the  cry  went  down  the 
line  on  every  lip.  Two  arrows  had  grazed  Rollo,  despite 
his  leathern  armor.  Thrice  had  Richard  felt  the  sting  on 
his  ribs,  where  the  mail  had  turned  the  shaft.  Only  one 
desire  had  he  now,  —  to  ride  through  or  over  his  tor- 
menters. 

"God  wills  it!  Normandy!  Normandy!"  came  from 
Duke  Robert's  cavaliers.  "  Montjoye  Saint  Denis !  " 
rang  from  the  Count  of  Chartres.  "  Biez  ! "  thundered 
the  Auvergners ;  and  the  whole  steel-mailed  line  swept 
upon  the  Seljouks,  like  an  avalanche.  And  now  a 
crash !  They  smote  the  Turks  with  might  irresistible ; 
the  dcstrers  trampled  down  the  frail  Tartar  horses  by 
thousands.  What  guard  were  light  targets  and  cotton 
turbans  to  the  swords  of  the  men  of  France  ?  For  a 
moment,  when  Richard  reined  in  Rollo,  he  believed  the 
foe  annihilated. 

"God  wills  it!"  myriad  voices  were  calling.  Yet  even 
as  the  dust  hung  in  the  air,  the  arrows  began  to  beat 
down  again.  Like  flies  the  Turks  had  scattered ;  like  flies 
they  returned,  new  hordes  making  good  all  loss.  And 
now  the  Christians  were  in  deadly  peril,  for  their  ranks 
were  all  broken  into  little  handfuls,  and  the  Seljouks 
swarmed  round  each,  trying  to  trample  it  down  by  weight 
of  numbers.  Richard  led  his  men  back  from  the  charge. 
Trenchefer  was  very  red.  How  many  Turks  opposed  the 
St.  Julieners  he  could  not  tell,  but  by  the  grace  of  the 
saints  the  line  was  re-formed  at  last.  Prince  Bohemond, 
crafty  of  heart,  but  a  very  lion  in  battle,  flew  down  the 
line  to  steady  it. 

"  We  have  slain  a  thousand  infidels !  "  the  Count  of 
Chartres  was  crying.  "  One  more  charge  and  we  have 
victory !  " 

"  One  more  such  victory  and  we  are  crowned  martyrs  !  " 
Prince  Tancred  made  answer.  "  Robert  of  Paris  is  slain, 
and  William,  my  brother,  and  a  hundred  good  knights 
more ;  and  we  are  being  shot  down  like  sparrows." 


268  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

Another  onrush  of  the  Seljouks,  this  time  nearer.  Rich- 
ard felt  the  moments  creeping  by  with  leaden  feet.  The 
possibility  of  a  disaster  beyond  thought  stared  him  in  the 
face.  It  was  one  thing  to  go  to  death  in  a  fair  fight  with 
the  sword  hot  in  one's  hand  —  another  to  sit  passive  and 
feel  destruction  beating  down.  Yet  he  was  thinking,  not 
of  himself,  but  of  another.  Prince  Tancred,  burning  to 
avenge  his  brother's  loss,  charged  out  with  his  own  troop. 
The  Seljouks  closed  around  him  like  the  sea.  Bohemond 
flew  to  aid,  and  rescued  his  nephew.  Richard  saw  Tan- 
cred riding  back  within  the  lines  bareheaded  and  bloody, 
his  lance  broken.  "  Christ  keep  our  souls,  the  Seljouks 
have  our  bodies,"  murmured  the  Breton  Count  Rothold, 
"  I  will  not  die  here !  "  and  he  also  charged  out  with  his 
shrill  native  war-cry,  "  Malo  !  Malo  !  "  In  a  twinkling 
the  hordes  rolled  round  him  ;  Richard  and  the  St.  Julieners 
saved  him.  But  now  Robert,  the  Norman,  spurred  up  to 
Longsword.  The  Duke's  casque  was  beaten  and  gory, 
his  long  white  pennon  red-dyed,  his  horse  wounded. 

"  De  St.  Julien,  we  are  lost  unless  Godfrey  and  the 
rest  rescue.  The  first  messengers  are  surely  slain.  Are 
your  troop  still  left,  and  your  horses  unwounded  ?  "  The 
noise  of  the  Turks  made  his  voice  nigh  inaudible,  but 
Richard  bowed  his  head. 

"  Then  for  the  love  of  Our  Saviour,  ride,  and  bring  suc- 
cor. On  you  hang  all  our  lives  !  " 

"  Men  of  St.  Julien,"  cried  Richard,  "  will  you  follow 
me?" 

"  Through  ten  thousand  devils !  "  roared  back  De  Carnac 
and  the  rest.  Richard  clapped  spurs  to  Rollo. 

"  Christ  guard  us ! "  was  his  cry ;  but  his  glance  was 
toward  the  encampment.  He  led  the  Auvergners  to  the 
left  of  the  battle,  where  the  Seljouk  horde  seemed  thinnest. 

And  what  followed  was  ever  to  Richard  Longsword  as 
one  long  wild  dream  whereof  the  memory  lingered;  the 
reality  was  blotted  out.  He  knew  that  he  charged  his 
men  against  the  horde,  and,  as  ever,  the  Turks  gave  way 
before  them  —  more  victims  to  be  swallowed  in  their  quick- 
sands. But  these  Franks,  having  made  their  charge,  did 


HOW   DUKE   GODFREY   SAVED   THE    DAY       269 

not  turn  back.  The  arrow  fire  smote  them ;  yet  on  and 
on  they  spurred,  still  chasing  back  the  foe.  And  then, 
when  the  tribesmen  saw  that  these  mad  Franks  would 
not  wheel  back  to  the  encampment,  from  the  fatal  line 
around  the  Turks  closed  in,  shield  to  shield,  lance  to  lance. 
Richard  never  knew  what  saint  gave  strength  to  his  arm 
that  day,  and  made  Trenchefer  terrible  to  the  unbelievers. 
Only  after  a  long  delirium  of  hewing  and  riding,  he  saw 
the  open  country  before.  A  look  backward  —  behold,  he 
was  upon  a  hill.  The  Turkish  lines  stretched  away  to  his 
left ;  he  had  cleared  their  flank,  and  the  battle  raged  in  its 
mad  carnival  behind  him.  He  looked  for  his  men  —  how 
few !  They  had  ridden  from  camp  a  hundred ;  scarce 
fifty  were  at  his  back.  But  the  deed  was  done.  They 
had  cleared  the  Seljouks,  and  now  to  Duke  Godfrey ! 

"  Lord,  I  am  a  very  sinful  man,"  prayed  Richard,  as 
they  pushed  their  wounded  steeds  down  the  hill  south- 
ward ;  "  unworthy  of  this  mercy.  Surely  it  was  through 
the  prayers  of  a  dear  saint  whose  peril  is  still  great." 

"  Ride,  men,  ride ! "  he  commanded,  and  gave  head 
to  Rollo,  whose  tough  hide  had  turned  more  than  one 
barb.  The  great  black  horse  tossed  out  his  hoofs  and  was 
away.  No  other  St.  Julien  steed  could  pace  him.  He  left 
the  band  behind,  and  Richard  flew  toward  the  long  line 
of  tents  he  saw  nestling  under  a  distant  hill.  The  mighty 
steed  ran  like  a  beast  of  steel,  unwearying,  unslacking; 
hillocks  he  raced  over,  gullies  he  cleared  with  unfailing 
leap.  The  wind  whistled  in  Longsword's  hair  —  his  hel- 
met had  gone,  the  saints  knew  whither ;  he  felt  the  horse 
speeding  too  fast  for  thought.  A  few  roving  stragglers 
from  the  Seljouk  host  pricked  after  him,  two  or  three 
arrows  twittered  overhead.  Rollo  dropped  them  all,  their 
small  steeds  blown  and  weary,  while  on  the  Northern  mon- 
ster ran. 

And  now  he  drew  near  the  camp.  Men  were  shouting 
to  him,  a  great  crowd  of  varlets  staring.  Rollo  ran  down 
the  streets  of  tents,  a  thousand  eyes  upon  the  thundering 
black  horse  and  his  blood-stained  rider. 

"  The  Duke  !  the  Duke  !  "  Richard  was  shouting,  as  he 


270  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

drew  rein  before  the  wide,  silken  pavilion.  A  score  of 
knights  and  squires  swarmed  around.  A  strong  hand  was 
needed  to  stay  Rollo.  Richard  sprang  breathless  to  the 
ground,  and  stood  face  to  face  with  Godfrey,  just  emerging 
from  the  tent.  "  Lord  de  St.  Julien,"  cried  Bouillon, 
"  alone  ?  Covered  with  blood  ? "  But  Richard  cut  him 
short. 

"  Rescue,  rescue,  as  you  love  Christ !  Our  host  is  sur- 
rounded, and  nigh  perishing ;  Robert  of  Paris  and  Prince 
William  are  slain.  The  Seljouk  arrows  are  hail.  Rescue, 
or  all  is  lost." 

"  By  Our  Lady  of  Antwerp ! "  thundered  Godfrey,  all 
action,  "  blow  horns,  sound  trumpets !  Horses  ;  arm  ; 
mount ! " 

No  need  of  more !  The  word  flew  through  the  encamp- 
ment swifter  than  light.  Now  the  Duke's  war-horns 
sounded,  now  Count  Hugh's,  now  Count  Raymond's. 
But  Godfrey  was  foremost.  Scarce  had  Richard  quaffed 
a  helmet  of  water,  before  the  Duke  stood  before  him  in  his 
silvered  hauberk,  and  the  fifty  picked  knights  of  his  body- 
guard were  in  saddle.  "  Give  me  a  horse  !  "  cried  Richard. 
"  A  horse,  my  lord  duke !  for  mine  has  ridden  hard,  and 
is  wounded." 

"  By  the  splendor  of  God,"  cried  Godfrey,  "  you  will 
have  your  fill  of  fighting !  Bring  the  best  spare  destrer 
and  a  new  helm  !  " 

So  Richard  was  again  on  horseback;  and  if  he  was 
wounded  and  weary,  he  did  not  know  it  till  later  on  that 
fateful  day.  Rollo  he  left  in  safe  hands,  and  followed  the 
Duke. 

"To  the  east,  my  lord.  Their  flank  is  unguarded,"  he 
urged.  "  You  may  have  them  all." 

And  Godfrey  rode  madly  ahead  with  his  bodyguard. 
After  him  streamed  the  Christian  heavy  cavalry,  they  too 
thousands  upon  thousands  —  the  finest  squadrons  ever 
arrayed  in  sinful  war.  Then  again  for  Richard  the  mad 
delight  of  the  ride !  But  this  time  with  countless  comrades 
about  him;  and  as  the  host  swept  up  over  the  eastern 
hills,  the  sun  hung  in  mid-heaven,  and  made  the  arms  and 


HOW  DUKE   GODFREY  SAVED  THE   DAY       271 

shields  one  tossing  sea  of  light.  Before  and  below  lay  the 
Seljouk  horde  and  the  thin  lines  of  the  Christians  —  very 
close  now ;  for  Kilidge  Arslan  was  pressing  in  to  pluck  his 
prey.  But  at  the  sight  one  mighty  cry  rolled  from  fifty 
thousand  throats,  "  God  wills  it !  "  For  God  had  delivered 
the  infidels  into  Duke  Godfrey's  hands. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

HOW   RICHARD    WAS   AGAIN    CHASTENED 

FORWARD  the  great  host  swept.  And  if  the  sight  of  the 
onrushing  Turks  had  borne  terror  to  the  Christians  that 
morning,  what  terror  must  have  sped  among  the  hordes- 
men  that  noon.  For  the  whole  army  of  Kilidge  Arslan 
was  caught  in  a  fatal  triangle,  —  the  hills  where  no  cavalry 
might  wheel,  the  lines  of  Bohemond  and  Tancred,  and  the 
squadrons  of  Godfrey.  "  God  wills  it !  "  again  the  cry  ; 
and  every  knight  in  the  onrushing  squadrons  was  holding 
his  lance  steady  —  no  sitting  in  rank  now  and  feeling  the 
beat,  beat  of  the  arrows.  The  Seljouks  might  not  scatter, 
if  they  would. 

A  howl  of  mortal  fear  was  rising  from  the  unbelievers. 
The  tale  later  spread  that  they  saw  two  Christian  knights 
in  armor  fiery-bright,  who  rode  before  the  advancing 
squadrons,  whose  mail  was  unpierced  by  the  stoutest 
lance-thrust,  who  slew  with  lightnings  flashed  from  their 
flaming  swords.  The  cry  grew  louder  and  louder.  The 
Christians  knew  the  Turks  were  calling  on  Allah  and 
their  Prophet  to  save  them,  —  vain  hope  !  for  all  the  host 
of  Michael  and  his  angels  were  fighting  for  the  Cross  that 
day. 

As  he  swept  on,  Richard  saw  the  hordesmen  dash  their 
thousands  upon  Bohemond's  thin  line,  —  no  arrows  now, 
but  striving  to  crush  by  mere  weight  of  numbers.  He  saw 
the  wearied  Normans  and  Bretons  spur  out  to  the  charge. 
And  then  indeed  there  was  fair  battle,  —  the  Christian  host 
nigh  swallowed  in  the  infidel  myriads;  but  still  over  all 
tossed  Tancred's  white  silk  banner  blazoned  with  its  blood- 

272 


HOW   RICHARD   WAS   AGAIN    CHASTENED       273 

red  cross ;  and  above  the  howl  of  the  Seljouks  rang  the  cry 
which  the  unbelievers  that  day  so  learned  to  dread  :  — 

"God  wills  it!" 

At  this  moment  Godfrey  and  Raymond,  with  their  fifty 
thousand  mailed  cavalry,  struck  the  Turkish  hordes,  and 
swept  them  toward  the  hills  like  dust  that  scurries  before 
the  west  wind.  "God  wills  it!"  The  Seljouks  were  riding 
for  life,  the  Christian  knights  trampling  them  down  with 
their  huge  destrers;  and  sword  and  battle-axe  reaping  their 
bloody  harvest.  "  God  wills  it !  "  Richard  heard  the  horns 
of  the  Sultan's  picked  guard  sounding  the  retreat;  and  the 
last  resistance  melted  away  as  the  Seljouks  fled  to  a  man 
toward  the  hills. 

As  Godfrey  and  his  thousands  came  on,  Bohemond, 
Tancred,  and  Robert  of  Normandy  charged  forth  with 
their  wearied  knights  —  not  wearied  now  —  catching  the 
hordesmen  on  flank  and  rear,  trampling,  slaying,  pursuing. 
And  when  the  rescued  cavaliers  saw  Longsword  flying  at 
Bouillon's  side,  another  great  shout  went  down  the  line, 
"  Richard  Longsword  !  Richard  de  St.  Julien  !  "  Then 
the  Norman  held  his  head  very  proudly,  for  he  thought, 
"  What  joy  will  this  be  to  Mary !  " 

"  On !  on ! "  urged  Duke  Godfrey,  never  drawing  rein, 
while  the  rout  and  chase  swept  forward.  "To  the  hills 
after  them !  Let  none  escape  !  God  and  Our  Lady  are 
with  us! " 

"  Dex  att,"  thundered  the  rescued  Normans,  and  the 
whole  host  flew  faster.  Swift  were  the  Seljouk  horses ; 
but  the  shivered  hordes,  crowding  together  in  the  narrow 
valley,  were  mown  as  grass  before  the  Christian  onset. 
Up  among  the  rocks  the  pursuit  was  driven  ;  steeds  fell, 
their  riders  trampled  down  instantly.  The  Seljouks  gained 
the  crags  where  lay  their  camp,  dismounted,  stood  at  bay. 
But  the  Franks  had  dismounted  also,  and  spread  around 
the  hills  a  forest  of  lances.  On  the  front  attacked  Ray- 
mond ;  on  the  flanks  Robert  of  Flanders,  Duke  Robert, 
Godfrey,  Hugh,  and  Tancred  ;  while  brave  Bishop  Adhe- 
mar  led  the  attack  from  the  rear.  Then  came  the  final 
stand.  The  Turks  fought  as  beasts  at  bay.  But  the 


274  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

Christians  were  raging  lions ;  they  stormed  the  camp,  broke 
the  spear  wall,  scattered  the  bodyguard  of  Kilidge  Arslan 
himself.  The  Seljouks,  like  frighted  partridges,  scam- 
pered over  rocks  and  craggy  peaks,  where  their  heavy-armed 
foe  might  not  follow.  So  some  escaped,  but  a  score  of 
thousands  then  and  there  perished ;  for  quarter  none  asked 
or  gave.  Foremost  in  the  press  had  been  Richard.  He 
long  since  had  cast  away  his  shattered  shield;  but  the 
hauberk  of  Valencia  was  bulwark  against  a  dozen  deaths. 
Every  time  his  good  arm  brought  low  an  infidel  he  was 
glad  ;  was  he  not  performing  to  God  a  holy  service  ?  When 
the  Seljouks  broke  once  more  after  the  storming  of  the 
camp,  Longsword  regained  his  horse  to  chase  down  those 
who  hazarded  flight  in  the  plain  country.  The  sun  was 
hanging  low  in  the  heavens  now.  Old  knights  were  pray- 
ing Charlemagne's  prayer  at  Roncesvalles  —  that  the  day 
might  lengthen  while  they  hunted  the  Moslem. 

Richard  rode  with  Gaston  of  Beam,  who  had  been  not 
the  least  valiant  of  the  many  brave  that  day ;  and  as  he 
rode,  again  and  again  he  came  across  fugitives,  not  in  the 
fastastic  colors  of  the  Seljouk,  but  in  a  dress  all  white  with 
red  girdles  and  sandals.  Often  as  they  came  on  such, 
the  pursued  would  turn  and  charge  Gaston's  whole  troop 
with  a  mad  fury  that  Frankish  valor  could  scarce  master. 
Presently,  just  as  the  shadows  began  to  spread  on  the  hills, 
Longsword  saw  before  him  a  band  of  horsemen,  clothed 
in  white,  in  their  midst  the  figure  of  a  mighty  warrior  in 
gilded  mail,  upon  a  tall  bay  charger,  and  across  that  rider's 
saddle  it  seemed  a  prisoner  in  pale  dress  with  fluttering 
red  ribbons,  —  to  Richard's  mind,  a  woman.  "  After  ! 
After  !  A  prisoner  !  "  cried  Gaston,  putting  his  horse  at  a 
last  burst  of  speed,  —  a  good  steed,  but  he  had  been  ridden 
hard  ;  and  the  fugitives  still  drew  ahead.  Richard  clapped 
spurs  to  his  mount;  the  beast,  one  of  the  best  of  Duke 
Godfrey,  shot  past  Gaston,  and  the  distance  betwixt  Rich- 
ard and  the  strange  rider  lessened. 

Richard  could  see  now  that  the  captive  was  indeed  a 
woman,  that  she  was  struggling  in  the  arms  of  her  captor. 
Once  he  thought  he  caught  her  cry,  despite  the  yells  of  the 


HOW   RICHARD  WAS  AGAIN   CHASTENED      275 

flying  Moslems,  who  were  invoking  all  the  jinns  to  give 
them  speed.  He  rode  past  the  rearmost  fugitive,  who 
turned  for  fight,  saw  before  him  a  brown-faced  Arab,  saw 
the  cimeter  dancing  in  his  face ;  felt  the  steel  edge  glance 
on  his  helmet  —  a  great  rush  of  blood  nigh  blinding ;  a 
stroke  of  Trenchefer  cleaving  something  —  the  Arab  was 
gone.  Richard  dashed  away  the  blood  with  his  fist, 
pressed  the  spurs  harder.  The  prisoner  leaned  out  and 
shook  forth  her  ribbons  —  Mother  of  Mercies!  how  like 
the  ribbons  of  Mary!  And  had  he  never  seen  that 
splendid  rider  before  ?  Again  he  spurred,  and  slapped 
his  steed  with  the  flat  of  his  sword.  Faster  and  faster ; 
the  blood  once  more  blinded ;  once  he  brushed  it 
away ;  long  since  his  lance  had  been  shattered  in  pieces, 
but  Trenchefer  was  brazed  to  his  arm.  A  last  burst  of 
speed ;  he  could  see  the  Arab  warrior  struggling  with  his 
arms  about  the  captive ;  one  instant  more  and  he  would 
breast  the  strange  champion.  But  even  as  he  pressed  the 
spur,  the  good  horse  stumbled,  plunged,  was  down,  and 
Richard  dashed  upon  the  ground.  An  instant  only. 
He  was  bruised ;  but  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  Trenchefer 
still  in  hand.  "Allah  akhbar!"  rang  the  shout  of  the 
Arab,  a  voice  he  knew  full  well,  yet  had  heard  —  where  ? 
Longsvvord  dragged  the  kicking  destrer  from  the  ground. 
The  good  horse  stood,  made  a  step  —  he  was  lamed ; 
walking  were  pain.  And  as  Richard  looked,  his  quarry 
sped  over  a  hillock,  was  gone  ;  while  he  stood  staring  after, 
scarce  knowing  that  from  head  to  heels  he  was  bruised, 
and  that  the  warm  blood  was  streaming  over  his  face. 
Only  the  darkening  landscape  seemed  circling  round  and 
round,  and  his  ears  were  ringing,  yet  not  with  the  shout  of 
receding  battle.  Gaston  of  Beam  had  ridden  up  with  his 
men.  "Holy  St.  Barbara,"  the  viscount  was  crying,  "you 
are  sorely  hurt,  fair  friend.  Your  horse  is  lamed.  Ho ! 
Peter,  dismount  and  put  my  Lord  de  St.  Julien  in  your  saddle. 
We  must  ride  for  the  camp.  Already  it  is  darkening." 

"  No !  "  exhorted  Richard,  "  continue  the  chase.  Do 
not  let  those  Arab  fiends  escape.  They  have  a  Christian 
prisoner,  a  lady,  I  swear  by  the  four  Gospels ! " 


276  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  A  lady !  "  exclaimed  Gaston.  "  No  prisoner !  doubtless 
she  is  one  of  their  tent  women,  whom  the  riders  are  trying 
to  save.  How  could  any  Christian  maid  fall  into  their 
hands  ?  Fighting  we  have  had  to  a  fill  to-day,  and  none 
more  than  you,  fair  knight" 

They  put  Richard  upon  the  man-at-arms's  horse.  He  was 
so  weak  now  that  Gaston  rode  at  one  side,  and  a  squire  at 
the  other,  to  guard  against  a  fall.  As  they  rode  back 
toward  the  encampment  the  stars  were  peeping  out,  and 
the  moon  had  begun  to  climb  above  the  hills.  There  was 
a  thin  gray  haze  spreading  from  the  shallow  river  and 
marsh.  Men  talked  in  whispers,  save  as  here  and  there 
they  passed  one  lying  wounded  and  moaning.  All  over 
the  plain  torches  were  moving  about,  priests  and  women 
seeking  the  Christian  wounded,  giving  water  to  the  dying, 
and  with  them  camp  varlets,  —  rabbits  during  the  battle, 
but  brave  enough  now,  —  plundering  the  fallen  Turks,  and 
slaying  those  who  still  breathed.  Richard  saw  the  great 
spoil  of  the  Seljouk  camp  borne  off  in  triumph :  gold- 
threaded  carpets,  coin,  horses,  —  many  camels,  that  the 
marvelling  victors,  who  had  never  seen  such  ill-shaped 
bulks  before,  thought  the  devil  himself  must  have  begotten. 

Closer  to  the  Christian  camp  the  Frankish  dead  lay 
thickly  on  the  ground.  Raymond  of  Agiles  was  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross  above  each.  "  Blessed  are  these !  " 
cried  he;  "already  St.  Michael  leads  them  before  Our 
Father;  they  have  white  robes  and  palms,  and  raise  the 
anthem  everlasting." 

They  rode  on,  and  to  them  joined  the  Count  of  Chartres, 
shouting :  "  Praised  be  all  angels,  De  St.  Julien !  You 
saved  us  all ;  the  infidels  were  in  the  very  camp !  " 

"  The  camp  !  "  cried  Richard,  starting  from  his  seat. 

"  Assuredly  ;  Stephen  of  Blois  and  Bohemond  strove  to 
drive  them  out ;  there  is  a  rumor  certain  women  were  car- 
ried captive.  A  scared  horse-boy's  tale,  I  trust !  Holy 
Mother !  You  are  wounded,  my  Baron !  You  nigh  fall 
from  the  saddle  !  " 

And  Gaston  of  B6arn  and  Chartres  caught  Longsword, 
as  he  reeled. 


HOW   RICHARD    WAS   AGAIN    CHASTENED       277 

"  Unhand  me,  sirs !  "  shouted  Richard,  thrusting  them 
both  back  roughly ;  "  I  am  unhurt.  I  must  go  to  the  camp !  " 

And  he  spurred  away  headlong,  his  bruise  nowhere,  one 
horrible  thought  mastering  all. 

Yet  as  he  reached  the  camp,  now  very  dim  in  the 
twilight,  a  deadly  sense  of  weakness  and  weariness  was 
stealing  over  him.  Food  ?  Save  for  a  mouthful  of  bread 
while  he  buckled  on  his  armor,  he  had  tasted  none  that 
direful  day.  Water  ?  He  had  not  touched  a  drop  since 
leaving  Duke  Godfrey's  camp.  Wounds?  He  was  bleed- 
ing in  a  dozen  places.  He  felt  the  firm  earth  spinning. 
\Yould  there  never  be  end  to  the  frightful  pound,  pound 
of  the  horse  under  him  ?  His  sight  was  dimming,  ears 
rang ;  but,  summoning  all  his  will,  he  controlled  himself. 

"  Dear  Christ,"  was  his  prayer,  "  do  not  let  me  faint  until, 
until"  —  but  he  could  go  no  farther.  When,  however,  he 
passed  more  knights  and  men-at-arms  bringing  in  the  spoil, 
laughing  and  boasting  over  their  valiant  deeds,  his  breast 
grew  lighter.  When  the  infidels  had  been  so  utterly 
broken,  what  was  there  to  fear  ?  The  rush  of  faintness 
passed,  he  again  sat  steady  in  the  saddle.  And  as  many 
as  recognized  him  in  the  dusk  raised  the  cry  that  swelled 
as  the  rest  caught  it :  "  Ho  !  De  St.  Julien  !  Hail !  De  St. 
Julien  !  Our  Lady  bless  you,  fair  lord,  you  have  saved  us 
all  this  day ! "  But  the  shout  that  had  been  music  in  his 
ears  two  hours  earlier  he  scarce  heard.  Prince  Tancred 
passed  him,  called  on  him  to  stay ;  he  spurred  on,  though 
the  poor  soldier's  horse  under  him  nigh  dropped  of  weari- 
ness. 

In  the  camp  at  last.  The  fires  were  being  rekindled; 
around  each  little  groups,  over  the  loot  of  the  Turkish 
camps.  The  wounded  were  groaning  on  the  dry  turf,  men 
were  bringing  in  the  dead,  and  here  and  there  women  wail- 
ing. Richard  knew  the  way  to  his  own  encampment,  as  if 
by  instinct.  And  as  he  rode  his  blood  chilled  yet  more 
when  he  saw  here  and  there  tents  down,  their  walls  torn, 
pegs  wrenched,  poles  shattered,  and  contents  scattered 
around.  Then  it  was  true  the  Seljouks  had  stormed  the 
camp !  Before  him  he  saw  the  little  group  of  pavilions 


278  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

over  which  the  St.  Julien  banner  had  waved  that  morning 
—  the  banner  was  gone  !  His  horse  stumbled  over  a  body. 
He  dismounted.  The  moon  was  rising ;  in  the  pale  light 
he  saw  the  face  of  one  of  his  own  grooms  —  set  in  death. 
Men  were  standing  before  the  tents,  some  tugging  at  the 
cords  as  if  to  retighten  them,  some  kindling  a  fire,  some 
in  groups,  talking  in  low,  scared  whispers.  In  the  dimness 
they  did  not  see  Richard,  as  he  came  up  on  foot. 

"  Holy  St.  Maurice,"  one  was  muttering,  "  may  I  not  be 
the  first  to  tell  the  tale  to  my  lord !  " 

"  Fellow  ! "  thundered  Richard,  bursting  into  the  little 
group,  and  clapped  a  hand  heavy  as  a  millstone  on  the 
man-at-arms's  shoulder.  "  Rascal !  Speak !  Speak ! 
What  is  this  ?  Dumb  as  a  mute  ?  Why  no  banner  ?  The 
tents  in  disorder  ?  Where  is  —  "  But  the  words  came 
not,  for  his  dry  tongue  clove  fast  in  his  mouth. 

No  answer.  The  retainer  turned  as  pale  and  quaking 
as  if  the  devil's  self  had  accosted  him. 

"Speak!  speak!"  raged  Richard,  making  his  victim 
writhe  under  his  iron  grip.  Still  nothing.  He  looked  at 
those  around;  silent  all.  He  was  too  fearful  to  be 
angry. 

"  Mary !  Mary  de  St.  Julien ! "  cried  he,  finding  the 
name  at  last ;  "  if  you  are  here,  —  one  word,  —  or  I  am  in 
perdition !  "  Still  silence.  He  saw  one  of  the  men-at- 
arms  crossing  himself ;  he  saw  that  the  pavilion  where  he 
had  left  his  wife  was  half  overturned  ;  he  saw  lying  across 
the  entrance  a  dead  body,  and  the  firelight  showed  the 
white  dress  and  the  red  girdle  and  shoes. 

"  For  the  love  of  Christ !  "  was  his  plea,  "  will  no  one 
speak  ?  or  must  I  kill  you  all  ? "  In  his  frenzy  he  half 
drew  Trenchefer.  And  just  as  all  gave  way,  when  they 
saw  the  moonlight  waver  on  the  blade  still  red,  there  was  a 
step,  and  a  voice  —  Sebastian's  voice  —  spoke  :  — 

"  Sweet  son,  bow  to  the  will  of  God.  Listen !  I  have 
just  returned  to  the  camp  with  Herbert  and  the  rest. 
Mary  Kurkuas  is  not  here.  Theroulde  will  tell  all." 

They  heard  a  groan  from  Richard,  that  none  forgot  to 
his  dying  day.  A  javelin  was  lying  against  a  tent-pole ; 


HOW   RICHARD  WAS  AGAIN   CHASTENED       2/9 

as  Theroulde  stepped  reluctantly  out  from  the  silent  circle, 
the  Baron  sent  the  dart  whistling  past  his  head. 

"  Die !  —  coward  !  traitor !  "  then  Longsword  cursed 
terribly  when  the  cast  missed  and  flew  into  the  dark. 

Sebastian  had  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Gilbert  de  Valmont !  "  whispered  he,  never  trembling 
when  Richard  raised  his  fist  to  strike.  "  Remember  him ! 
Add  not  one  sin  to  another  !  Listen  to  Theroulde  !  " 

"Traitor!"  stormed  Richard,  but  the  priest  held  him 
fast.  "  Why  could  you  not  die  defending  your  mistress  ?  " 

"  Hearken,  my  Lord  de  St.  Julien,  then  call  me  traitor 
and  coward  if  you  will ! "  cried  the  minstrel,  brave  at  last. 
"  And  see  if  there  be  no  worse  traitors  than  I  ?  Would 
God  you  had  listened  to  the  warnings  of  us  all  against  that 
smooth-tongued  Hossein,  —  as  if  Christian  faith  could  ever 
lurk  beneath  so  swart  a  skin." 

Richard  had  steadied  himself. 

"  Go  on,  my  man,"  he  said,  very  quietly  now,  yet  in  a 
tone  that  set  all  a-quaking ;  for  they  could  not  comprehend. 
They  only  knew  a  strong  spirit  was  in  agony. 

"Lord,"  said  Theroulde,  "if  one  jot  of  what  I  say  be 
other  than  truth,  so  smite  me  dead,  and  let  Satan  own  me 
forever.  As  we  lay  in  the  camp  after  you  had  led  forth 
most  of  the  fighting-men,  soon  we  heard  the  rush  and  roar 
of  battle,  and  presently  some  came  flying,  who  said  the 
cavaliers  were  hard  pressed,  and  many  slain.  And  all  the 
time  my  lady  sat  before  the  tent  upon  the  rugs  we  laid  for 
her,  resting  her  chin  on  her  hands,  and  saying  nothing. 
Yet  she  was  not  tearful  nor  pale,  at  which  we  marvelled, 
for  we  knew  she  thought  that  every  roar  and  shout  might 
betoken  your  fall,  and  her  mind  had  only  room  for  that. 
Then  after  the  battle  had  raged  long,  and  stragglers  and 
wounded  began  coming  in  with  tales  that  grew  ever  blacker, 
I  said  to  Hossein,  who  sat  by  me,  '  Brother,  go  to  the  edge 
of  the  camp,  see  if  the  St.  Julien  banner  still  towers  high, 
and  bring  back  word  to  my  lady.'  For  I  did  not  intend  to 
quit  her  side,  and  was  glad  to  have  him  gone.  So  he  went 
without  delay  and  was  gone  a  long  time,  while  the  din 
of  battle  continually  grew  louder  and  nearer.  Yet  when 


28o  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

he  returned,  he  said,  '  I  went  so  close  to  the  battle  lines 
that — see!  two  arrows  grazed  me!'  Then  to  your  wife, 
'  Most  august  mistress,  your  lord's  banner  is  not  in  sight ; 
but  fear  nothing.  He  is  not  slain,  they  tell  me,  but  has 
ridden  to  summon  help  from  Duke  Godfrey.'  Then  my 
lady's  cheeks  began  to  glow,  and  I  imagine  she  was 
thinking  of  your  return  and  the  victory." 

"  For  Our  Lord's  sake,  no  more  of  what  you  imagine ! " 
came  from  Richard.  "  Tell  only  what  you  know  !  " 

"Scarce  had  he  returned"  —  went  on  Theroulde,  his 
voice  faltering  —  "  when  we  heard  a  frightful  clamor  from 
the  rear  and  flank  of  the  camp  by  the  river  and  marsh. 
Soon  grooms  and  women  ran  by  crying,  '  The  infidels  are 
on  us,  slaying  all ! '  And  sooner  than  thought,  we  beheld 
the  Seljouk  horsemen,  sword  in  hand,  dashing  among  the 
tents,  cutting  down  old  man,  priest,  and  woman,  without 
quarter.  Then  I  laid  hands  on  a  crossbow.  '  Hossein,' 
cried  I,  'if  you  are  true  Christian,  die  with  me  for  our 
mistress ! '  But  he  only  smiled,  and  drawing  his  cimeter, 
gave  a  mighty  howl  that  rose  above  all  other  din.  Ere  I 
could  look  upon  my  lady,  lo,  —  there  were  horsemen  by 
our  tents  —  Arabs  —  not  Turks  —  in  white,  with  red  girdles  ; 
and  Hossein  shouted  in  their  speech,  '  This  way,  Cid 
Iftikhar ;  here  is  the  Star  of  the  Greeks ! '  And  I  saw 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh  himself  upon  a  splendid  horse,  in  flash- 
ing armor.  Then  I  sped  a  crossbow  bolt  through  one  of 
his  riders,  cut  down  a  second  with  my  sword,  and  struck  at 
Hossein,  thinking  to  end  his  treachery.  But  Iftikhar 
swung  once  at  me,  —  I  knew  no  more.  When  I  came  to 
myself  I  found  that  I  was  under  the  wreck  of  the  tent. 
Hours  had  sped ;  the  battle  had  drifted  away.  The  emir's 
sword  had  turned  in  his  hand ;  the  blunt  edge  smote  me. 
I  had  a  mighty  blow,  but  will  be  none  the  worse  —  praise 
the  saints !  I  looked  for  my  lady  —  gone !  All  the 
grooms  and  varlets  are  slain,  and  old  Sylvana  the  nurse. 
Hossein  gone  — and  the  devils  ride  with  him  !  And  for  me, 
my  Lord  de  St.  Julien,  if  I  have  been  coward  or  traitor, 
strike  off  my  head.  You  are  my  judge." 

Richard  tore  from  his  neck  his  heavy  gold  chain. 


HOW   RICHARD   WAS   AGAIN    CHASTENED       281 

"  You  are  a  right  valiant  man,  Theroulde,  and  no  boaster. 
I  believe  your  tale,"  said  he,  throwing  him  the  gold  links ; 
"  and  now  a  horse  —  a  fresh  horse  !  " 

Sebastian  still  held  him. 

"  Madness! "  cried  the  priest ;  "it  is  dark ;  you  have  been 
up  since  before  dawn  !  For  what  is  this  horse  ?  " 

"  To  ride  after  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,"  came  from  between 
Richard's  teeth  ;  "  and  if  I  find  him  not  —  to  slay  as  many 
of  his  cursed  race  as  I  may ;  and  then  to  curse  God  and 
die ! " 

While  he  spoke  the  moonbeams  rested  full  on  his  face, 
and  all  beholding  saw  that  it  had  aged  in  one  hour;  the 
lines  wrought  on  it  by  the  death  of  Gilbert  were  still  there 
—  and  more.  Had  his  hair  shone  white,  none  would  have 
been  amazed.  "Christ  pity  him!  "  muttered  old  Herbert, 
the  most  fervent  prayer  of  the  veteran  for  many  a  wicked 
day. 

But  Sebastian  would  not  let  Richard  go. 

"As  you  fear  God,"  commanded  the  priest,  "be  quiet; 
do  not  fling  your  life  away !  " 

"  I  fear  God  no  longer,"  was  Richard's  cry.  "  I  only 
hate  Him ! " 

Sebastian  led  him  into  the  tent,  with  a  touch  soft  and 
tender  as  a  woman's.  "  Dear  lad,"  he  said  gently,  "  God 
will  not  be  angry  unduly  with  you  for  what  you  have  just 
said,  though  its  sin  is  very  great.  You  think,  '  How  can 
this  thing  be  and  God  be  still  good? '  Remember  the  words 
of  holy  Anselm  of  Canterbury,  '  I  ask  not  to  understand 
that  I  may  believe ;  but  I  believe  that  I  may  learn  to 
understand.'  " 

"  Father,"  said  Richard,  with  a  terrible  calmness  in  his 
voice,  "if  for  my  own  sins  I  had  been  doomed  to  some 
great  woe,  I  could  say  'mea  culpa, — merciful  chastisement'; 
but  since  the  chief  suffering  will  be  that  of  as  pure  a  saint 
as  ever  breathed  this  air,  I  cannot  endure  without  a  groan. 
I  only  know  that  the  hand  of  God  is  exceeding  heavy  upon 
me,  and  my  burden  is  more  than  I  can  bear."  Then,  to 
the  infinite  relief  of  Sebastian  and  the  rest,  he  let  them  take 
off  his  blood-soaked  armor  and  shirt,  and  stanch  the  wounds, 


282  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

which  were  none  very  deep,  but  so  many  that  he  was  weak 
from  loss  of  blood.  Presently  Herbert  came  in  and  re- 
ported :  "  Little  lord,  our  men  took  thirty  Turks  prisoners 
when  the  camp  was  stormed ;  shall  we  keep  them  to  put  to 
ransom  ? "  Richard  was  not  too  feeble  to  leap  from  the 
rugs.  "Kill!  kill!"  he  foamed  out;  "if  Satan  wait  long 
for  their  souls,  let  him  have  mine  too !  " 

Herbert  smiled  grimly  and  went  out  of  the  tent. 

"At,"  cried  Longsword  to  Sebastian,  when  the  priest 
forced  him  to  lie  down  once  more,  "  I  do  well  to  be  cruel, 
—  for  there  is  no  sweet  angel  now  to  teach  me  mercy. 
God  reward  me  double  beyond  present  griefs,  if  I  slay  not 
my  share  of  the  infidels !  Therefore  let  me  grow  pitiless 
and  terrible." 

"  You  should  hate  and  slay  the  Lord's  enemies,  dear  son," 
said  Sebastian,  crossing  himself ;  "  yet  beware  lest  you  fight 
for  your  own  revenge,  and  not  for  the  glory  of  God." 

"  Enough  if  I  slay  them !  "  was  the  answer.  Then  Rich- 
ard took  food  and  drink,  and  toward  morning  slept. 

So  ended  the  day  of  Dorylaeum,  the  battle  where,  as  the 
pious  chronicler  puts  it,  "by  the  aid  of  St.  James  and  St. 
Maurice  the  Christians  had  a  great  deliverance  from  their 
enemies,  and  twenty-three  thousand  infidels  were  sped  to 
perdition ;  such  being  the  singular  favor  of  God." 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

HOW  THE  ARMY  CAME  TO  ANTIOCH 

To  the  surprise  and  joy  of  Sebastian  and  Herbert,  Rich- 
ard recovered  from  his  wounds  with  miraculous  rapidity. 
When  the  host  marched  again,  many  a  voice  cheered  him. 
But  those  who  loved  him  best  saw  the  stony  hardness  of 
his  face,  beyond  anything  that  came  after  the  great  stroke 
at  St.  Julien.  No  ragings  and  thunders  now,  but  a  calm 
and  fearful  laugh  that  made  men  shiver.  He  led  a  band 
of  picked  knights  after  the  Seljouks,  no  more  reckless 
cavalier  in  all  the  host  than  he.  The  Turks  had  been 
utterly  routed.  Two  days'  marches  from  the  battle  Rich- 
ard found  horses  ridden  dead  by  their  panic-struck  masters. 
Of  all  the  prisoners  taken  Longsword  had  only  one  ques- 
tion, "  Whither  fled  Iftikhar  and  his  band  ?  "  But  no  pris- 
oner could  tell  —  they  were  only  ignorant  hordesmen.  So 
Richard  rode  on,  and  only  God  knew  what  passed  in  his 
heart. 

The  army,  now  in  one  huge  column,  commenced  the 
march  across  Phrygia,  which  journey,  of  all  the  unforgetable 
scenes  of  that  Crusade,  those  who  survived  it  were  least 
likely  to  forget.  Richard  remembered  the  tales  told  by  old 
Manuel  Kurkuas,  and  laid  in  what  provision  he  could  for 
his  men.  Those  of  his  friends  who  heeded  him  did  like- 
wise. But  the  multitude  —  noble  and  villain,  creatures  of 
a  day  —  scarce  stuffed  their  wallets,  and  went  forward,  lit- 
tle dreaming  of  the  things  in  store.  For  the  march  was 
one  long  horror.  Kilidge  Arslan  had  ridden  ahead  with  a 
band  that  still  remained  by  him.  If  he  could  not  stamp 
out  the  Christians  with  his  hordes,  at  least  he  could  make 

283 


284  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

famine  and  thirst  fight  against  them.  He  burned  harvests  ; 
he  devastated  cities ;  the  wretched  inhabitants  he  hurried 
into  exile,  —  with  Phrygia,  Pisidia,  Cappadocia,  to  the 
gates  in  Mount  Taurus,  one  desert  for  the  bears  and  the 
wolves  to  hunger  in.  As  the  Crusaders  advanced,  they  saw 
only  fields  seared  and  black,  roofless  houses,  with  swallows 
flitting  above  them ;  and  forth  from  the  caves  in  the  hills 
crept  gaunt,  starved  wretches,  praying  for  a  bit  of  bread 
in  the  name  of  Our  Lord  or  Allah.  The  host  climbed  on  the 
first  day  the  crest  of  the  "  Black  Mountains,"  fit  presage 
for  the  blacker  things  before  ;  so  far  as  eye  could  stretch 
there  was  utter  desolation.  And  on  the  next  they  entered 
the  terrible  valley  called  Malabyumas,  and  were  there 
many  days,  hemmed  in  by  precipices  and  beetling  crags, 
while  the  great  snake  of  the  column  dragged  its  slow 
length  along.  At  first,  while  there  was  yet  water  on  the 
hillsides  and  food  in  the  wallets,  the  host  toiled  on  with 
only  the  pitiless  summer  sun  for  foe ;  then,  as  the  little 
streamlets  grew  rarer,  the  dry,  dark  crags  pressed  closer, 
and  the  food  was  failing,  the  misery  began.  Misery  past 
imagining !  for  if  it  is  terrible  for  one  mortal  to  suffer  and 
go  out  in  agony,  what  is  it  when  hundreds  of  thousands 
surfer  ?  when  horses  and  mules  are  falling  like  flies  by 
the  roadway ;  when  men  and  women  trudge  onward  like 
dogs,  with  their  tongues  hanging  from  their  mouths  ;  when 
the  sun  hangs,  from  morn  till  evening,  a  flaring,  coppery 
ball,  bright  and  merciless,  drying  up  all  the  sap  of  life ; 
while  against  the  blue  ether  show  the  countless  flocks  of 
crows,  that  whir  and  caw  as  they  pounce  upon  the 
dying  ere  the  breath  has  sped  or  the  living  marched 
away  ? 

The  very  hugeness  of  the  host  hindered  its  hasting 
through  this  land  of  torment.  One  Sunday  five  hundred 
persons  fell  down  and  perished  with  thirst,  and  those  who 
toiled  on  called  them  happy ;  for  in  heaven  one  never 
dreams  of  cool  fields  and  sweet,  cold  water,  yet  all  the 
time  is  burned  within  by  fire  unquenchable.  When  a  tiny 
stream  was  reached  —  what  was  it  among  so  many  ? 
Women  fell  dying,  with  their  babes  sucking  at  their 


HOW  THE  ARMY  CAME  TO  ANTIOCH         285 

breasts ;  and  the  host  pressed  on,  for  help  there  was  none 
from  man  ! 

The  horses,  poor  brutes,  died  by  scores ;  knights  wept 
when  they  saw  their  dcstrers  —  often  better  loved  than  broth- 
ers —  sink  down ;  saw  their  dear  falcons  and  hunting  dogs 
perish.  Yet  who  could  think  of  beasts,  where  men  were 
staggering  with  open  mouths,  gasping  for  each  breath  of 
wind  to  lighten  their  burning  torments  ?  Still  the  host 
pressed  on,  though,  far  back  as  eye  might  scan,  the  car- 
casses and  the  crows  marked  out  the  line  of  marching. 

On  and  on  !  and  in  the  midst  of  the  torment  there  were 
strange  hours  of  ecstasy,  of  rapture  over  visions  passing 
human  ken.  Men  raved  of  angels  and  a  heavenly  city, 
and  streets  of  gold  and  living  fountains  ;  and  the  last  word 
of  the  dying  was  "Jerusalem !  "  while  the  shout  that  went 
down  the  parching  host  when  the  sun  beat  fiercest  and  all 
the  watercourses  were  dust,  was,  "  God  wills  it !  Jeru- 
salem!"  So  the  march  kept  on;  and  though  thousands 
fell,  none  turned  back,  nor  would  have,  had  the  backward 
track  been  of  less  peril  than  that  before. 

Richard  bore  the  privations  with  a  steadiness  which 
made  good  the  opinion  of  his  followers  that  his  frame  was 
built  of  iron  —  not  of  flesh  and  blood.  Yet  his  heart  was 
cut,  as  never  in  this  way  before,  to  see  his  men  dying 
before  his  face,  and  he  unable  to  aid.  Many  a  poor 
Auvergner  called  to  his  lord,  and  bade  him  tell  some 
mother  or  wife  or  sweetheart  in  far  St.  Julien  that  he  had 
struggled  hard  to  gain  the  Holy  City,  but  God  had  willed 
otherwise ;  and  the  seigneur  would  bear  witness  that  he 
had  been  a  faithful  vassal  and  true  Christian. 

Rollo,  great  steed,  endured  the  thirst  with  a  quiet  forti- 
tude that  let  him  survive  when  half  the  cavaliers  of  the 
army  were  bestriding  mules  and  oxen.  Sebastian,  too, 
bore  up,  shrewdly  remarking,  as  was  his  way,  that  his  life 
of  fast  and  abstinence  had  advantages  in  this  world  as  well 
as  in  the  world  to  come.  Herbert,  too,  seemed  unconquer- 
able ;  but  what  with  the  losses  at  Dorylaeum  and  the 
thirst,  Richard  saw  his  company  thinned  in  a  way  to  make 
his  heart  sick,  even  had  this  been  all. 


286  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Finally,  one  day,  when  the  last  watercourse  was  dried 
up  and  death  stared  all  in  the  face,  certain  knights  saw 
their  dogs  slinking  into  camp,  and  behold,  sand  on  their 
coats  and  mud  on  paws !  Keen  eyes  tracked  them ;  and, 
hid  behind  the  bleak  mountains,  the  searchers  found  a  river, 
broad,  still,  stately,  sweeping  through  its  narrow  gorge. 
Hither  rushed  all  the  host,  soldier  and  beast.  Had  the 
Seljouks  been  by  then,  they  could  have  slain  their  foes  to 
a  man,  for  the  Christians  forgot  all  save  water — water!  — 
sweeter,  more  precious,  than  spiced  wine.  They  drank  till 
from  very  surfeit  they  fell  down  stricken ;  and  three  hun- 
dred died,  slain  by  the  element  of  life. 

This  was  the  end  of  the  great  horror.  They  found  new 
streams;  the  parching  valleys  began  to  sprinkle  with 
green ;  they  saw  once  more  fields  and  trees  and  vineyards. 
"  I,  the  Lord,  will  open  rivers  in  high  places  and  fountains 
in  the  midst  of  valleys ;  I  will  make  the  wilderness  a  pool 
of  water  and  the  dry  land  springs  of  water;  "  so  repeated 
good  Bishop  Adhemar,  the  father  of  the  army ;  and  all 
who  heard  cried  "  Amen."  And  the  cry  was  again, 
"  God  wills  it !  To  Jerusalem  !  "  not  despairing  now,  but 
rejoicing,  confident;  for  after  so  great  a  trial  to  their  faith, 
need  the  Most  High  prove  them  more  ?  Then  the  march 
quickened,  the  jongleurs  played  merrily,  there  were  jests 
and  tales  around  the  camp-fires ;  and  they  began  to 
hope  for  one  more  passage-at-arms  with  the  infidel  before 
taking  the  Holy  City  —  as  if  Heaven  had  not  saved  them 
once  already!  Yet  there  was  a  tone  of  sadness  in  the  host, 
for  the  line  was  much  shorter  now.  Where  was  he  who 
had  left  no  friend  on  those  burning  sands  or  at  Dorylaeum? 
Troopers  were  trudging  on  foot;  extra  arms  and  baggage 
had  been  thrown  to  the  wolves  long  ago;  not  a  man  in 
the  army  that  had  not  grown  a  dusty  beard.  Once  when 
Richard  polished  his  shield  so  that  it  shone  as  a  mirror, 
he  saw  his  face  upon  it.  He  scarce  knew  himself,  what 
with  the  stiff  beard  and  the  fresh  scars  of  the  battle,  and 
those  lines  drawn  above  the  eyes. 

" Heh"  cried  he,  forcing  a  jest  to  Theroulde,  who  sat 
by  the  tent  mending  a  crossbow,  "  how  would  the  fair 


287 

ladies  at  Palermo  who  danced  with  me  after  the  tourney 
regard  me  now?  " 

Theroulde  tugged  at  the  hairs  on  his  own  chin. 

"  If  we  see  no  razor  ere  long,  fair  lord,  we  may  swear 
by  our  beards  as  did  Charlemagne,  were  they  but  whiter, 
and,  as  the  song  has  it,  of  two  hundred  years'  growth." 

"  Verily,"  answered  Richard,  making  shift  to  keep  a 
merry  face,  "  I  think  I  have  lived  two  hundred  years  in  the 
past  month ;  and  if  troubles  make  white  hairs,  the  saints 
know  I  am  like  to  become  most  venerable." 

Theroulde  said  no  more,  and  Richard,  looking  into  the 
shield,  thought  in  his  heart,  "  Were  Mary  to  see  me  now, 
would  she  still  love  me  ?  " 

But  the  answer  came,  "  Though  your  face  were  changed 
black  as  an  Ethiopian's,  yet  she  would  love  you  !  "  Then 
the  further  thought,  at  which  Richard's  soul  grew  black  as 
night :  "  Should  he  never  —  never  in  this  world  —  set  eyes 
on  Mary  again  ?  Why  had  God  dealt  with  him  thus  ?  Why 
should  she  suffer  for  his  sin,  —  even  if  it  had  not  been 
purged  at  Clermont  ? "  Each  day  Richard's  face  grew 
more  terrible ;  men  feared  him  and  praised  his  holy  zeal 
against  the  infidels. 

Thus  the  host  came  to  the  pleasant  city  of  Antiochetta. 
Time  would  fafl  to  tell  of  all  their  later  troubles :  how  Tan- 
cred  and  Baldwin,  brother  of  Godfrey,  took  Tarsus  and 
quarrelled  over  its  mastery ;  how  Baldwin  seized  Edessa 
and  founded  there  a  principality ;  how  the  great  army 
trudged  its  weary  way  across  Lycaonia  and  mounted  the 
rugged  steeps  of  the  "  Mountain  of  the  Devil."  Many 
a  stout  man-at-arms  died  by  the  way,  of  sheer  weariness ; 
but  the  host  pressed  on.  "  God  wills  it !  To  Jerusalem  !  " 
was  still  the  cry,  and  the  ranks  closed  up. 

Then  leaving  Marash  and  descending  Taurus,  they  met 
new  foes :  no  more  Turks,  but  bronzed  Arabs  on  roe- 
limbed  steeds,  men  armed  with  cimeters  of  Damascus,  and 
bright  with  the  silks  and  cottons  of  Ispahan  and  Bussorah. 
Richard  was  a  busy  scout-master  now,  for  he  and  the  few 
other  Christians  who  came  from  Sicily  alone  could  speak 
the  Arabic,  and  need  not  trust  to  uncertain  interpreters. 


288  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

So  he  rode  before  the  host  with  his  forty  knights,  no  spirit 
madder  than  he,  —  a  very  St.  George  when  he  fell  upon 
the  Moslems. 

When  they  were  close  to  Artesia  on  their  way  to  invest 
Antioch,  several  Arab  riders  fell  into  Richard's  hands,  and 
he  put  to  them  the  inevitable  question  :  — 

"  Dogs,  —  can  you  tell  me  if  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  one  time 
emir  in  Sicily,  is  in  Syria,  and  where  did  he  part  company 
with  Kilidge  Arslan  ?  " 

And  the  men  answered,  all  trembling  :  — 

"  Mercy,  O  Cid !  Your  slaves  only  know  that  the  Emir 
Iftikhar  is  great  among  the  Ismaelians.  Report  has  it 
that  he  has  now  gone  to  Alamont  to  see  his  lord  Hassan- 
Sabah." 

"  And  you  know  nothing  —  nothing  —  '  words  spoken 
with  awful  intensity  —  "of  a  certain  Christian  lady,  his 
captive  ? " 

The  men  saw  he  had  gladly  paid  them  their  weight  in 
gold,  if  they  could  have  told  aught ;  but  they  dared  not  lie. 

"  Nothing,  lord ;  —  we  are  of  the  following  of  Yaghi- 
Sian  of  Antioch,  and  know  of  the  Emir  Iftikhar  only  by 
name." 

"  Fiat  voluntas  Tua"  muttered  Richard,  and  he  sent  the 
prisoners  to  the  rear  to  be  further  questioned  by  Duke 
Godfrey.  But  he  was  more  reckless  now  in  the  forays 
and  skirmishes  than  ever.  All  men  said  he  was  seeking 
death  ;  and  Sebastian  gave  him  warning  :  — 

"  Son,  you  are  a  chosen  warrior  of  Our  Lord.  His  cause 
is  not  served  by  throwing  your  life  away.  Beware  lest,  in 
running  into  peril,  you  do  great  sin !  " 

"Ah,  father !  "  was  the  response,  "what  have  I  left  save 
to  slay  as  many  infidels  as  I  can  and  die !  Yet  you  are 
right;  die  I  must  not,  until  I  have  struck  down  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh  and  avenged  —  "  but  he  did  not  speak  the  name. 

The  next  day  Richard  led  his  men  under  the  city  of 
Aleppo,  and  scattered  some  of  the  best  of  the  light  horse 
of  Redouan,  the  local  emir.  But  the  walls  were  high. 
Report  had  it  there  was  plunder  in  the  palaces  without  the 
walls ;  some  of  the  knights  wished  to  attack.  "  We  fight 


HOW  THE   ARMY  CAME   TO  ANTIOCH         289 

for  Christ,  not  for  gold  and  jewels  !  "  said  Richard,  sternly, 
and  led  away. 

And  now  they  were  in  Syria.  Before  them  lay  a  rolling 
green  country,  fairer  than  Sicily  even,  —  a  deeper  blue,  a 
brighter  sun,  than  in  Provence.  The  warm  wind  bore  to 
them  the  sniff  of  the  sand-dunes,  spiced  groves,  and  genii's 
islands  far  to  southward.  They  trod  a  strange  soil, 
strange  flowers  underfoot,  strange  birds  in  the  air,  strange 
leaves  on  the  trees.  All  the  sunshine,  however,  did  not 
brighten  Richard  Longsword.  Gone !  Parents,  brother, 
sister,  —  ah,  God  !  wife  also,  and  only  knightly  honor  and 
revenge  left.  Let  him  slay  Iftikhar  and  see  the  cross 
above  Jerusalem,  and  then !  but  he  fought  back  the  black 
thoughts,  as  he  had  many  a  time  before.  Day  and  night 
he  rode  at  the  head  of  his  men,  who  whispered  his  bones 
were  steel,  he  was  so  tireless. 

Then  the  host  drew  close  to  the  great  city  of  Antioch, 
the  first  Moslem  stronghold  to  resist  since  the  fall  of  Nicaea. 
And  noble  adventure  awaited  when  the  Norman  Duke  led 
the  van  to  force  the  "  Iron  Bridge "  which  spanned  the 
Orontes,  key  to  the  northern  approach  of  the  city.  Long 
and  stoutly  did  Yaghi-Sian's  horse-archers  and  infantry 
dispute  the  passage,  but  Robert's  mad  knights  swept  all 
before  them. 

"  With  an  hundred  and  thirty  knights  Roger  won  all 
Sicily  at  Ceramis !  "  cried  the  valorous  Duke.  "  Shall  we 
fail  now  with  St.  Michael  and  Our  Lady  to  aid  ? " 

So  forward  it  was ;  and  the  Saracens  heard  the  great 
"God  wills  it!"  rolling  down  the  Christian  line,  —  that 
battle-cry  which  made  the  fight  blaze  tenfold  fiercer,  and 
which  infidels  so  learned  to  dread.  A  great  victory,  but 
something  better  for  Richard.  In  the  press  he  and  De 
Valmont  fought  side  by  side ;  and  when  a  sling-stone  laid 
Louis  prone,  Longsword  had  stood  above  him,  covering 
with  his  shield,  arid  saved  the  Auvergner  from  the  tram- 
plings  of  friend  or  foe.  Then  when  they  cried  "  Victory  !  " 
and  the  scared  infidels  raced  for  their  lives  to  get  behind 
the  walls,  Richard  bore  Louis  to  his  own  tent;  for  the 
Auvergner' s  was  far  to  the  rear. 


29o  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"Ah,  Richard,"  said  De  Valmont,  when  they  had  pitched 
after  the  battle,  "  you  would  not  have  stood  above  me  thus 
in  Sicily." 

"  No,  fair  knight,"  answered  Richard,  frankly  ;  "  but 
God  has  seen  the  sins  of  us  both,  and  we  are  rewarded." 

"  Come,"  cried  the  Proven£al,  firing,  for  he  had  a  good 
heart  under  a  haughty  shell;  "we  swore  forgiveness  at 
Clermont ;  let  us  swear  brotherhood,  for  we  know  each 
other  now.  We  both  are  valiant  men  ;  we  two  fought  with 
honor  at  least,  though  to  my  cost,  —  shall  we  not  be  as 
strong  in  friendship  as  in  hate  ?  " 

So  Richard  took  the  Auvergner's  hand,  and  gave  him 
the  kiss,  not  of  peace,  but  of  brotherhood.  And  when 
Sebastian,  coming  by,  saw  them,  he  smiled :  — 

"  You  do  well,  dear  sons,  for  two  friends  have  the  strength 
of  four  apart,  and  true  affection  is  of 'God !  " 

As  soon  as  Louis  was  well  enough  to  ride  once  more,  the 
twain  were  ever  together.  And  the  companionship  of  Louis 
was  an  unspeakable  boon ;  for  to  one  whom  he  held  his  equal, 
De  Valmont  was  a  frank,  open-hearted,  merry-tongued  fel- 
low, the  very  comrade  to  chase  off  the  imps  of  gloom  that 
had  of  late  encamped  round  Longsword's  soul.  But  as 
they  scoured  the  country,  bringing  in  forage  and  seeking 
news  of  the  enemy,  Richard  always  had  the  same  question 
for  any  prisoners  :  — 

"  Do  you  know  aught  of  the  Emir  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  ? " 
And  when  they  told  him  no,  he  was  most  likely  to  give 
a  nod  to  Herbert,  which  meant  that  the  captives'  heads  were 
forfeit.  Louis  pitied  him  from  the  bottom  of  his  soul. 

"  Dear  friend,"  said  the  Provencal  once,  when  they  waited 
without  Duke  Godfrey's  tent  to  report  a  skirmish,  "  you  let 
this  loss  of  Mary  Kurkuas  eat  your  heart  away.  Believe 
me,  I  loved  her  once  as  much  as  you,  and  yet  — "  here  he 
laughed  at  memory  of  his  own  discomfiture  —  "I  am  still 
a  very  merry  man.  Are  you  angry  ?  "  Richard  shook  his 
head.  "  Then  hear  me  out.  Your  Greek  beauty  was  a  very 
f/e,  fair  as  Roland's  Aude.  But  hers  are  not  the  only  bright 
eyes  and  red  cheeks  in  the  world.  Cannot  the  Lord  of 
St.  Julien  have  the  best  and  the  fairest  ?  —  in  Sicily,  in 


HOW  THE  ARMY  CAME  TO  ANTIOCH         291 

France,  in  Syria  ?  Mark  what  I  have  done,  —  my  heiress 
in  Toulouse  could  hold  her  head  beside  the  Greek,  and  no 
shame  to  either.  Say  to  yourself,  '  The  saints  are  unkind  ; 
I  will  not  let  them  make  me  pout  forever.  Another  cast 
of  the  dice,  and  better  fortune  — ' '  But  here  he  stopped, 
for  on  the  face  of  Richard  was,  not  indeed  rage,  but  a 
darkening  of  passion  that  Louis  knew  he  had  scarce 
dreamed  of.  And  Richard  answered  very  gently :  — 

"  Sweet  knight,  we  have  sworn  brotherhood ;  I  know  you 
speak  out  of  the  goodness  of  your  heart.  When  you  say, 
'  Once  I  loved  Mary  Kurkuas  as  much  as  you,'  and  then 
boast  your  happiness,  and  add  that  she  is  not  alone  fair,  you 
show  but  this,  —  you  loved  her  eyes  and  her  hair,  but  not 
her  true  self,  as  do  I.  As  for  what  more  you  say,  I  only 
answer  thus :  I  have  sworn  that  henceforth  I  will  look  in 
love  on  no  woman,  if  not  on  her,  but  will  fight  as  best  I 
can  for  God  and  Holy  Church,  and  trust  that  after  the 
sacred  city  is  taken  Our  Lord  will  admit  me  into  His  peace. 
Till  then  let  me  be  a  good  friend,  and  as  merry  as  I  may."' 

While  he  spoke,  the  tent  doors  flapped  aside,  and  Duke 
Godfrey  himself  strode  forth.  There  was  strength  and  joy 
by  merely  glancing  into  the  eyes  of  that  noble  man.  He 
put  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Richard,  and  said  as  a 
father  to  his  son :  "  Richard  de  St.  Julien,  fear  not  that 
God  is  unmindful  of  your  sorrow  and  prayers.  We  all, 
who  love  and  honor  you,  have  shared  your  grief,  and  He 
who  loves  you  more  than  we,  must  share  the  most.  Be 
strong,  and  either  He  will  give  you  the  desire  of  your 
heart,  or  you  shall  enter  into  the  peace  no  mortal  man 
may  know."  There  was  a  ring  and  sweetness  in  the  words 
of  the  mighty  Duke  which  no  priest  could  fuse  into  his 
speech,  for  Richard  knew  that  Godfrey  himself  had  walked 
through  the  moil  and  toil  of  life,  and  was  crowned  already 
victor. 

"  I  will  trust  in  God ! "  he  said,  when  he  left  the  Duke. 

At  his  tent  he  sat  a  long  time  with  Louis  over  some  rare 
wine  they  had  taken  that  day ;  called  for  a  backgammon 
board,  and  played  against  Louis,  winning  seven  games 
running.  Herbert,  who  was  standing  by,  was  glad  when 


292  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

he  heard  his  lord  give  a  hearty,  unforced  laugh  —  not  of 
the  fearful  kind  which  had  been  his  custom  before.  When 
Richard  prayed  that  night,  he  put  forth  a  new  petition : 
"  Master,  if  I  have  been  chastened  sufficiently,  and  it  is 
Thy  will,  grant  that  I  may  see  Musa  once  more,  for  next 
to  one  whom  clearly  Thou  wiliest  I  should  not  possess,  I 
desire  him  beyond  all  the  world." 

And  this  prayer  he  repeated  night  after  night.  Louis 
de  Valmont  was  grown  a  dear  friend,  —  but  the  Spaniard  ! 
Richard  never  dreamed  of  making  the  Auvergner  a  rival. 
"  Musa !  Musa ! "  The  longing  to  see  him  was  too  deep 
for  words. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

HOW    RICHARD    REGAINED    HIS    BROTHER 

WHEN  the  Christians  sat  down  before  Antioch  in  the 
autumn  time,  the  delights  of  the  country  —  the  abundance 
of  provisions  and  drink,  the  dark  eyes  of  the  sinful  Syrian 
maids  who  swarmed  to  the  camp  —  made  the  Franks  intent 
on  everything  save  warfare.  The  massy  walls  mocked  all 
storming ;  and  though  Bohemond  blockaded  from  the  east 
by  the  Gate  of  St.  Paul,  Count  Hugh  on  the  north,  and 
Godfrey  and  Raymond  on  the  northeast,  the  south  'was 
open  to  every  wind,  and  provisions  entered  the  city  freely. 
Much  ado  had  Richard  to  keep  discipline  amongst  his  own 
men.  "  My  merry  masters,"  said  he  once,  when  even  De 
Carnac  clamored  for  a  carouse  over  some  skins  of  heady 
Laodicean,  "  whether  we  see  the  heavenly  or  the  earthly 
Jerusalem,  let  us  see  it  with  pure  hearts  and  pure  bodies." 
And  with  Trenchefer  he  slit  all  the  wine-skins.  So  that 
night,  at  least,  the  St.  Julieners  kept  sober. 

But  the  tide  soon  turned.  A  miserable  winter  it  was ; 
chill  rains  ;  the  ill-placed  camps  swimming  in  water. 
Swords  rusted  in  a  night.  There  was  hardly  an  hour  when 
the  heavens  did  not  pour  down  their  floods,  until  scarce  a 
dry  back  was  in  the  army.  And  as  the  floods  continued, 
the  provisions,  once  squandered  so  recklessly,  began  to 
fail.  Longsword  rode  forth  with  Bohemond  and  Robert 
the  Norman  to  sweep  the  country,  and  too  often  met  only 
roving  Saracen  horse,  who  gave  them  hard  blows  and 
little  booty.  Then  at  last  came  the  inevitable  pursuer,  — 
pestilence !  and  men  began  to  die  by  scores ;  their  faith 

293 


294  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

all  gone,  cursing  God  and  the  saints,  and  the  folly  that 
drove  them  from  lovely  France  on  a  fool's  own  errand. 
Evil  tidings  came  in  daily.  Sweno  the  Dane,  it  was  told, 
who  was  leading  fifteen  hundred  horsemen  across  Cappa- 
docia,  had  been  overwhelmed  by  the  Seljouks.  And  other 
ill  news  flowed  fast  as  the  rain  torrents.  Even  the  stoutest 
began  to  think  more  for  their  own  lives  than  for  ever 
seeing  the  Holy  City.  Some  fled  to  Baldwin  at  Edessa ; 
others  to  Cilicia.  Duke  Robert  went  to  Laodicea,  and 
only  returned  when  admonished  thrice  in  the  name  of  Our 
Lord.  William  de  Melun,  the  mightiest  battle-axe  in  the 
whole  army,  fled  away,  —  the  infidels  he  did  not  fear,  but 
who  was  proof  against  famine  ? 

Yet  many  did  not  falter ;  Tancred  did  not,  nor  Count 
Raymond,  nor  Godfrey  who,  before  all  others,  was  the  re- 
proachless  warrior  of  his  Lord.  Bishop  Adhemar  thun- 
dered against  the  vice  in  the  camp,  holding  up  the  fate  of 
Babylon  and  of  pagan  Rome,  mother  of  harlots.  Stern 
measures  were  taken  against  sins  of  the  flesh.  Blasphem- 
ers "were  branded  with  a  hot  iron.  When  some  of  Yaghi- 
Sian's  spies  were  taken,  Bohemond  had  them  butchered 
and  cooked,  to  spread  the  tale  in  Antioch  that  the  Chris- 
tians ate  their  captives,  and  that  those  who  came  after  be 
discouraged. 

But  when  Peter  the  Hermit  took  flight  by  stealth,  the 
whole  army  raged  in  despair. 

"  If  he  flee,  whom  may  we  trust  ?  Sooner  expect  a  star 
fall  from  heaven !  "  was  the  cry.  Tancred  pursued  after 
and  brought  him  back.  "  Father,"  quoth  the  Prince,  "do 
you  well  to  lead  Christians  into  a  strait  like  this,  —  then 
valorously  depart?" 

"Alas!"  moaned  the  one-time  prophet,  "the  flesh  is 
weak,  though  the  spirit  willing !  Would  I  had  never 
preached  the  Crusade !  When  I  see  the  sins  of  the  army, 
I  fear  lest  I  am  '  that  Egyptian,'  as  St.  Paul  was  accused, 
'  who  led  forth  into  the  wilderness  four  thousand  men  that 
were  murderers.' " 

"  Hark  you,  father,"  cried  the  Prince,  with  a  bitter 
laugh.  "  I  am  a  warrior  and  no  churchman ;  but  I  think 


HOW   RICHARD   REGAINED   HIS   BROTHER      295 

it  shame  for  knight  or  villain  to  call  the  devil  above 
ground,  and  then  cry  because  he  has  a  sting  in  his  tail ! 
Back  you  shall  go,  will  you,  nill  you ;  and  let  us  have  no 
more  long  chatterings  about  the  sinful  sloth  of  the  warriors 
of  France  until  the  praters  themselves  rule  their  lives  by 
their  own  gospel." 

So  they  fetched  Peter  again  to  Antioch.  Before  all  the 
army  he  swore  an  oath  on  the  Scriptures  that  he  would 
never  desert.  And  to  his  honor  be  it  said,  this  lapse  was 
his  last.  In  the  after  days  he  won  yet  more  glory  and 
confidence,  despite  this  showing  of  human  frailty. 

Thus  the  winter  wasted.  With  the  spring  came  better 
food  and  more  fighting.  Richard  had  kept  his  men  in 
moderate  health  and  spirits ;  first  by  his  iron  discipline, 
second  because  he  remembered  a  hint  given  by  Manuel 
Kurkuas  on  Eastern  campaigning,  and  had  pitched  his 
tents  on  a  plot  that  was  sheltered  by  a  hill  from  the 
malarial  winds  of  the  lowlands.  Now  rumors  began  to 
come  into  camp  that  great  preparations  were  making 
among  the  Moslems  for  sending  a  huge  host  to  the  relief 
of  Antioch.  As  the  sun  smiled  warmer,  the  hearts  of  the 
Crusaders  lightened.  Their  camp  beside  the  green-bow- 
ered  Orontes  was  a  noble  sight,  —  one  sea  of  pennons  and 
bright  pavilions,  —  and  all  about  a  wide  moat  and  a  pali- 
sade. The  knights  rode  in  their  tourneys,  and  tinkled 
their  lutes  in  praise  of  some  maiden  in  far  and  pleasant 
France.  But  still  Yaghi-Sian  made  Antioch  good,  and 
Jerusalem  seemed  very  far  away. 

Richard  told  himself  that  even  Mary  would  not  know 
him  now,  —  what  with  the  thinness  of  his  cheeks  and  his 
beard  that  almost  brushed  his  breast.  The  first  bitterness 
of  his  loss  was  beginning  to  pass.  Mary  had  doubtless 
become  wise,  and  submitted  to  her  lot.  Iftikhar,  he  knew, 
would  give  her  every  sensuous  delight.  He  prayed  that 
she  might  learn  to  be  reconciled.  As  for  himself,  there 
was  much  work  to  do.  Men  honored  his  great  sword. 
Though  his  seigneury  was  small,  the  greater  lords  called 
him  to  their  council,  because  he  spoke  the  infidels'  tongue, 
because  his  heart  was  in  the  Crusade  and  not  in  worldly 


296  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

advantage  ;  above  all,  because  in  him  they  saw  a  born 
leader.  He  was  still  the  reckless  and  headlong  cavalier 
whose  squadrons  could  scarce  keep  Rollo  in  sight  when 
their  chief  was  in  the  saddle. 

"  Beware,  De  St.  Julien,"  said  Godfrey,  one  day,  while 
it  was  arranged  that  Richard  should  lead  a  picked  band  of 
forty  down  toward  the  port  of  St.  Simeon  to  cut  off  some 
Arab  skirmishers.  "  Life  is  not  to  be  thrown  down  like  a 
cast  of  dice.  Remember  Oliver's  warning  in  the  tale  :  — 

"'Valor  and  madness  are  scarce  allied; 
Better  discretion  than  daring  pride.'  " 

"  True,"  answered  Richard,  smiling,  while  his  eye  wan- 
dered vacantly  over  the  fine-wrought  "  life  of  Moses " 
pictured  on  the  tapestries  lining  the  good  Duke's  tent. 
"  But  were  I  struck  dead  as  I  stand,  who  would  feel  a 
pang  ?  My  old  watch-dogs,  Herbert  and  Sebastian,  Ther- 
oulde  the  minstrel,  Rollo,  my  horse  —  who  more,  my 
Lord  Duke  ? " 

Godfrey  touched  the  young  knight's  hair  gently  when  he 
answered:  "  Fair  son,  —  for  so  I  will  call  you,  if  you  take 
no  offence,  —  all  are  put  in  this  world  for  some  great  and 
glorious  work,  —  and  to  us  especially  is  granted  the  task 
of  wresting  Christ's  own  city  from  the  unbelievers.  You 
would  not  shun  your  task.  Is  it  not  as  wrong  to  fling  life 
away  as  to  turn  the  back  on  the  foe  in  fair  battle  ?  And 
if  aught  befell  you,  say  not  that  none  would  mourn.  Be- 
lieve me,  we  all  love  and  honor  you ;  for  we  see  that  in 
your  heart  burns  a  rare  and  mighty  love  for  Christ,  and 
your  fall  were  a  grievous  loss." 

"  You  say  well,  my  lord,"  said  Richard,  bowing  ;  "  and 
were  I  to  fall,  men  would  mourn  'another  stout  swords- 
man and  good  lance  gone ' ;  for  I  am  honored  for  my 
strong  arm.  But  that  might  be  cut  off,  yet  I  were  still 
Richard  Longsword;  then  who  would  care  if  I  died  a 
thousand  deaths ! " 

"  As  Our  Lord  lives,  not  so  bitterly !  "  remonstrated  'the 
good  Duke.  But  Richard  only  replied  as  he  went  out,  "  I 
thank  your  kindness ;  but  if  I  meet  the  infidels  to-day,  let 


HOW  RICHARD   REGAINED   HIS   BROTHER     297 

the  saints  judge  between  us,  and  we  shall  have  a  noble 
battle ! " 

"  By  Our  Lady,"  swore  Godfrey,  when  Richard  departed, 
"  I  have  great  sorrow  for  that  lad  ;  for  lad  he  is,  yet  with  so 
old  a  face !  " 

And  Bishop  Adhemar,  who  had  stood  by  after  the  coun- 
cil broke  up,  replied  :  "  And  I  too  am  torn  for  him.  For  his 
sorrow  is  beyond  human  comfort.  Alas  !  poor  baroness  ! 
I  met  her  often  on  the  march.  May  she  and  he  alike 
learn  to  bow  to  the  will  of  God !  "  But  Richard  had  flown 
back  amongst  his  men,  and  called  loudly,  "  To  horse  !  " 

"  Laus  Deo  !  Gloria!  Gloria!"  he  shouted  to  Herbert ; 
"as  you  love  me,  saddle  with  speed.  Scouts  bring  in  that 
a  squad  of  the  emir  of  Emessa's  cavalry  lurk  around  the 
port.  I  ride  to  cut  them  off." 

"  Horse  and  away,  then !  "  bawled  the  man-at-arms.  "Yet 
why  so  merry  ?  "  And  Richard  answered,  laughing :  — 

"  I  know  not,  dear  fellow ;  yet  I  feel  as  if  some  angel  had 
said  to  me,  '  Richard  Longsword,  some  great  joy  to-day 
awaits ! ' ' 

"And  what  joy?" 

"  By  St.  Maurice,  I  know  not,  and  care  less  ;  most  likely 
I  shall  slay  twenty  infidels,  and  be  slain  by  the  twenty- 
first!" 

"  The  saints  forbid  !  " 

"  The  saints  forbid  nothing.  I  have  said  in  my  heart, 
'  Ill-fortune,  enough  of  you !  Begone  ! ' '  And  the  others 
marvelled  at  Longsword's  merry  mood.  "  Forward,  and  St. 
Michael  with  us!"  his  command.  "Forward!  forward!" 
came  from  all  the  rest,  for  they  sniffed  adventure  when 
Richard  Longsword  led. 

Richard  gave  Rollo  a  little  tap  on  the  flank,  that  sent 
the  huge  brute  racing  better  than  any  spur,  and  they 
plunged  away  at  a  brisk  gallop. 

Very  fair  that  spring  day.  Underfoot  the  wild  flowers 
were  springing  ;  the  turf  had  a  fresh  green,  and  all  the 
silver  poplars  and  oaks  were  putting  on  young  leaves. 
When  the  troop  watered  their  steeds  by  a  tinkling  brook, 
they  saw  the  water  strewn  with  scattered  apple  blossoms. 


298  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Everything  was  sweet,  balmy,  and  kind.  Who  under  such 
a  sun  could  keep  sad,  and  grimace  at  God  and  His  world  ? 
Not  Richard  Longsword.  He  broke  into  a  gay  battle-song 
of  Theroulde's  ;  then  the  others  took  it  up,  and  they  made 
the  myrtles  and  oleanders  quiver  with  their  chorus  as  they 
rode  along. 

"  Surely  the  saints  are  with  us  this  day  !  "  cried  Richard, 
when  the  last  catch  died  on  the  air.  They  were  skirting 
the  Orontes,  now  hidden  by  the  trees,  now  riding  by  its 
bright  current,  and  watching  the  swans  spread  their  white 
sails  to  the  soft  east  wind.  But  Longsword  had  not  forgot- 
ten the  more  serious  duty  that  called  him  afield. 

"  You,  De  Carnac,  and  two  more,  dismount.  Walk  to 
the  crest  of  this  hillock,  and  get  a  long  sweep  of  the  val- 
ley," was  his  order. 

Presently  the  three  came  back  with  tidings  that  there 
was  a  company  of  horsemen,  Saracens  presumably,  camped 
in  the  meadow  just  beyond  a  little  terebinth  grove. 

Richard  drew  up  his  men  with  the  promptness  born  of  a 
score  of  like  encounters. 

"  God  wills  it !  At  them  ! "  such  his  shout.  And  the 
forty,  all  as  one,  swept  from  their  covert  over  the  grassy 
savannah  —  were  round  the  grove  and  upon  the  infidels 
before  one  could  count  an  hundred.  Easy  victory  ;  for  the 
Moslems,  perhaps  three  score,  had  many  of  their  horses 
picketed,  and  were  preparing  a  meal.  The  false  Prophet 
had  beguiled  them  into  setting  no  sentry. 

"  Strike  !  Strike  !  "  the  Christians  were  riding  them 
down  in  a  twinkling ;  a  dozen  were  crushed  before  they 
could  rise  from  the  ground ;  others  drew,  and  made  some 
slight  defence ;  more  stood  dazed,  and  while  calling  on 
Allah  were  made  prisoners.  Richard  was  reining  in  Rollo, 
and  growling  that  he  had  not  struck  a  single  fair  blow,  when 
a  cry  from  Herbert  startled  him. 

"  By  the  Mass !     Look !     Hossein,  as  I  am  a  sinner !  " 

And  Richard  saw  before  his  eyes  a  white-robed,  catlike 
Arab,  swinging  upon  a  picketed  chestnut  charger.  No 
need  to  glance  twice  to  know  the  traitor  —  Longsword  could 
have  singled  his  face  from  ten  thousand.  But  as  he  gazed 


HOW  RICHARD   REGAINED   HIS  BROTHER     299 

a  flash  of  the  Arab's  dagger  had  cut  the  lariat ;  —  a  whistle 
to  the  high-bred  desert  steed,  and  the  splendid  creature  shot 
away,  fleet  as  a  startled  hart. 

"  For  the  love  of  God,  shoot  down  the  horse  !  "  thundered 
Richard,  making  Rollo  leap  under  the  spur.  Herbert 
levelled,  and  sent  a  crossbow  bolt.  Too  hasty,  —  long 
range,  and  he  missed.  And  every  twinkling  was  making 
the  distance  grow  long  between  the  rider  in  the  white  dress 
and  the  Christians. 

"  Chase  !  Ride  !  "  rang  Longsword's  command.  "  A 
hundred  byzants  to  take  him  alive ! "  But  Rollo  himself 
was  soon  heading  all  the  forty.  Never  had  Richard  ridden 
as  now,  never  had  Rollo  felt  the  spur  so  deep  ;  but  the 
speed  of  Borak,  steed  of  the  lightning,  was  in  the  mount  of 
Hossein.  Seldom  had  Rollo  so  nearly  met  his  match.  Al- 
most before  one  dreamt  it,  the  forty  were  specks  in  the  rear. 

"  Faster,  faster,  dear  Rollo !  "  urged  Richard,  for  his  voice 
was  ever  the  keenest  spur  to  the  great  brute.  And  Rollo 
indeed  ran  faster,  but  the  desert  steed  faster  too ;  and  for  a 
long  time  the  distance  between  neither  waxed  nor  waned. 
Grove,  thicket,  gully,  fallen  log  (for  their  way  lay  along 
none  the  most  beaten  road),  the  kind  Powers  led  them  past, 
when  a  stumble  would  have  dashed  rider  and  steed  to  certain 
death.  Richard  pressed  Rollo  again,  and  the  huge  horse 
putting  forth  all  his  powers  began  slowly  as  a  snail,  yet 
steadily,  to  gain  on  the  Arabian.  For  some  moments  they 
raced  thus ;  then  the  road  became  clearer,  shut  in  on  either 
side  by  trees  that  arched  down,  and  slapped  their  green  ban- 
ners in  the  riders'  faces.  Who  recked  ?  Already  Richard 
could  see  Hossein  swaying  in  the  saddle,  clearly  deliberating 
whether  he  could  slacken  to  dismount  and  speed  up  the 
hillside.  But  the  Arabian  was  running  for  dear  life  now, 
and  though  his  rider  tugged  at  the  bit,  he  hardly  swerved. 
Rollo,  black  monster,  was  coming  up  bound  upon  bound. 
Richard  dropped  his  lance  into  rest.  He  would  have 
Hossein  at  mercy  before  one  could  say  three  Credos.  Was 
his  hand  steady  enough  to  pin  the  Arab  through  the  thigh 
where  flesh  was  thick,  and  so  take  him  prisoner?  For 
Hossein's  life  would  be  precious  —  for  a  while. 


300  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"Ah,  traitor!"  cried  Longsword  in  Arabic,  "call  on 
Allah  now  !  " 

The  only  answer  was  a  fresh  bound  from  the  chestnut 
charger,  a  final  burst  of  speed  that  carried  him  ahead  for 
a  moment.  Then  the  steady  gallop  of  Rollo  told  once 
more — another  furlong,  and  the  Ismaelian  would  face  his 
doom. 

"La  ilaha  iW  Allah!"  broke  forth  from  the  fugitive; 
and  half  involuntarily  Richard  drew  rein,  while  the  prey 
nigh  in  his  hands  flew  onward.  For  lo  !  in  the  road 
directly  ahead  was  a  company  —  horse  and  foot,  in  Oriental 
dress,  —  advancing  rapidly,  not  a  bowshot  away  !  Richard 
wavered  for  an  instant.  He  saw  a  horseman  in  flashing 
armor  and  blood-red  turban  come  pricking  toward  them. 
Almost  ere  the  thought  could  speed  through  his  mind, 
Hossein  was  among  the  newcomers,  and  a  score  more 
came  dashing  forward  to  confront  the  solitary  Christian. 
A  glance  back  —  not  one  of  his  men  in  sight !  Rollo 
blown  and  panting  !  Escape  up  the  hillside  —  impossible ! 
—  he  in  armor,  and  the  Moslems  nimble  as  rats  ! 

"  God  wills  it !  "  Richard's  soul  cried.  "  This  is  the  good 
fortune ;  to  ride  down  the  foe,  fight  valiantly,  die  gal- 
lantly, and  then  peace  —  rest  —  peace  !  "  He  threw  down 
the  lance,  and  drew  forth  Trenchefer.  "The  last  time 
you  will  strike  for  a  Longsword,  good  friend !  "  quoth  he, 
with  a  loving  eye  on  the  keen  blade,  "  and  you  shall  not 
strike  in  vain ! "  Then  he  pressed  Rollo  once  more, 
"  On  again,  my  horse !  "  And  the  huge  brute  caught  the 
hard  road  under  his  hoofs  and  went  forward  at  a  headlong 
pace.  Richard  could  see  the  leading  warrior,  a  splendid 
figure  on  his  steed,  coming  on  with  drawn  cimeter  —  a 
noble  comrade  in  death !  He  would  strike  him  first.  And 
Richard  made  Trenchefer  dance  high  while  he  flew. 

"  God  wills  it !     St.  Julien  and  Mary  Kurkuas  !  " 

So  the  woods  rang  with  his  battle-shout.  He  could  see 
the  Moslems,  staring  half  amazed,  as  he  came  on  headlong, 
one  against  their  scores  ;  saw  bows  bend ;  heard  the  arrows 
scream  past.  The  leader  he  had  singled  as  his  prey  was 
dashing  down  the  road  to  meet  him.  How  fair  a  combat ! 


HOW   RICHARD   REGAINED   HIS   BROTHER    301 

"  God  wills  it !  St.  Julien  and  Mary  Kurkuas  !  "  Richard 
gave  it  as  his  last  battle-cry,  and  swung  Trenchefer  to  beat 
through  the  Moslem's  guard ;  when  lo !  the  strange  war- 
rior had  dropped  cimeter  and  shield  —  reined  short  —  and 
from  him,  as  if  by  echo,  there  came :  "  Mary  Kurkuas ! 
Allah  akhbar,  you  are  Richard  Longsword  !  "  And  Rich- 
ard let  Trenchefer  clatter  in  the  dust.  "  Musa !  my 
brother !  " 

Then,  all  in  armor  as  they  were,  they  flung  their  mailed 
arms  about  one  another  for  very  joy,  and  cried,  shedding 
great  tears,  as  do  only  strong  men  when  moved  too  deep 
for  speech.  For  a  moment  the  other  Moslems,  as  they 
swarmed  about,  were  ready  to  run  Richard  through,  think- 
ing he  had  taken  their  chief  captive  by  some  magic  art. 
But  Musa  motioned  them  aside.  When  the  two  again 
found  words,  the  first  question  from  the  Spaniard  was, 
"  And  how  is  it  with  the  Star  of  the  Greeks  ? "  But  at  this, 
the  face  of  Richard  grew  dark. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

HOW   IFTIKHAR   BORE   HOME   HIS    PRIZE 

IFTIKHAR  EDDAULEH  rode  over  the  dusty  road  from  Tur- 
raanin  to  Aleppo  with  only  thirty  about  him  of  the  hundred 
riders  that  had  followed  him  to  Dorylaeum.  But  Zeyneb 
was  at  hand,  and  Eybek,  who  had  gone  on  the  secret  mission 
months  before ;  and  beside  the  grand  prior  moved  a  horse- 
litter  containing  a  treasure  Iftikhar  would  not  have  parted 
with  had  the  heads  of  all  his  men  and  his  own  been  at  stake. 
Mary  Kurkuas  was  his.  The  scene  when  he  took  her  in 
the  Christian  camp  had  been  terrible  ;  how  beautiful  she 
had  been,  standing  at  bay,  dagger  in  hand  —  no  lioness 
more  dreadful !  He  had  disarmed  her  without  marring  one 
spot  on  a  skin  that  was  soft  as  the  rose-petals.  How  she 
had  cried  and  pleaded !  He  had  been  cruel  ?  Yes  ;  the 
poets  all  sang  love  was  either  cruel  or  sweet ;  and  Iftikhar 
would  be  all  sweetness  now. 

As  the  troops  rode  past  the  khan  which  stands  on  the 
Aleppo  road,  about  twelve  furlongs'  journey  beyond  the 
gates,  Iftikhar  drew  up  his  horse  beside  the  litter,  which 
Zeyneb  was  carefully  guarding.  The  curtains  were  closed, 
but  he  spoke  in  his  soft,  melodious  Arabic :  "  Star  of  the 
Greeks,  if  you  will,  —  look  forth  !  For  we  are  approaching 
Aleppo,  and  now  you  may  set  eyes  on  the  palace  El  Hale- 
bah,  which,  by  the  blessing  of  Allah,  is  mine,  and  therefore 
yours ! " 

Mary  thrust  back  the  curtains.  Her  face  was  very 
pale  now ;  the  red  spots  on  either  cheek  seemed  to  glow 
with  hidden  fire.  But  her  eyes  were  dry  and  bright  — 
the  hour  of  outward  agony  had  been  long  since  passed. 

"  A  beautiful  country ! "  were  her  words.  And  it  was  even 

302 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   BORE   HOME   HIS  PRIZE      303 

so  ;  for,  bowered  in  gardens  and  framed  by  a  sky  of  purest 
azure,  lay  Aleppo,  whose  white  walls,  white  houses,  gilded 
minarets  seemed  stencilled  in  silhouette  against  the  blue. 
Crowning  the  city  rose  the  citadel,  high  above  the  proudest 
domes  with  its  sheer  brown  rock.  On  it,  too,  shone  the 
gold  work  of  its  battlements,  and  its  gaudy  banners  stream- 
ing. Iftikhar  pointed  out  the  lofty  dome  of  the  great 
mosque  Jami-Zakarya,  whose  minaret  seemed  to  climb  to 
the  very  bow  of  the  heavens ;  the  stately  Jewish  synagogue, 
the  domes  of  the  Christian  churches,  the  tall  houses  of  the 
merchants  clustered  round  the  bazaar. 

"  Beautiful,  truly !  "  said  Iftikhar,  his  eyes  not  on  the 
stately  city,  but  on  the  face  of  the  Greek ;  "  fair  as  the  two 
gardens  by  the  river  of  milk  prepared  for  the  beloved  of 
Allah !  Yet  you  see  but  the  outward  husk,  O  Soul  of  my 
Soul !  For  yours  is  the  palace  which  Self  Eddauleh,  one- 
time lord  of  Aleppo,  prepared  for  a  maiden  like  your- 
self of  the  blood  of  the  Greeks;  and  what  was  her  joy 
shall  be  yours  as  well.  See  —  we  are  at  the  gates  of  El 
Halebah ! " 

Mary  thrust  back  the  curtains  farther,  leaned  on  the 
cushions  of  brocade  of  Tostar,  and  saw  the  troop  swing 
down  a  stately  avenue  of  poplars.  Soon  the  glittering 
city  and  dusty  highway  were  hid  from  view.  Between 
green  thickets  and  leafy  arbors  she  could  see  the  silver 
stream  of  the  Kuweik  creeping  silently  in  its  flower-banked 
bed.  Soon  the  trees  were  so  dense  that  the  sunlight  only 
filtered  down  a  soft  haze,  and  the  ground  under  the  horse- 
hoofs  was  cool,  where  the  moist  leaves  had  fallen.  A 
strange  hush  seemed  to  pervade  the  wood,  and  Iftikhar 
himself,  as  if  awed,  rode  on  in  silence.  Several  minutes 
thus ;  and  Mary  felt  a  strange  thrill,  as  if  a  voice  had 
spoken,  "  You  enter  now  into  a  magic  world ! "  The 
horses  had  fallen  to  a  slow  walk.  They  could  hear  bird 
calling  bird  far  within,  among  the  myrtles  and  laurel 
hedges.  The  soft  rush  of  a  hidden  waterfall  crept  upon 
them ;  one  could  almost  feel  the  fine  spray,  yet  only  heard 
the  plashing  music.  Presently,  as  if  by  enchantment,  four 
men  in  bright  armor,  with  naked  sabres,  stood  across  their 


3o4  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

way,  and  a  voice  rang  out,  trebly  loud  in  the  hush  of  the 
wood  :  "  Stand  !  Who  dares  set  foot  within  the  precincts 
of  El  Halebah  ? "  But  Iftikhar  had  ridden  in  advance  of 
the  troops.  "  By  the  dirk  and  the  cord  !  "  were  his  words, 
when  he  held  up  a  finger  where  a  gem-stone  glittered. 

"  The  grand  prior  !  Hail,  master  !  "  And  the  white 
turbans  of  the  four  almost  touched  the  turf  while  they 
saluted.  An  instant  more,  and  they  were  gone. 

"  See ! "  said  Iftikhar,  when  the  seeming  apparition 
had  vanished  among  the  trees.  "  Though  El  Halebah 
seem  unguarded,  save  by  the  owls  and  bats,  I  say  to  you 
not  a  snake  could  wind  under  the  dead  leaves,  but  the 
eyes  of  my  Ismaelians,  keeping  watch  and  ward,  would 
find  him.  Fear  nothing,  O  Rose  of  the  Christians  !  About 
you  this  hour  are  three  thousand  blades,  and  over  them 
all  must  a  foe  ride  ere  he  lay  hand  on  you !  You  are  safe, 
as  though  in  the  bosom  of  Allah  !  " 

Mary  made  no  reply.  The  iron  had  long  since  entered 
her  soul.  Iftikhar  was  to  have  his  day ;  the  Holy  Mother 
knew  it  was  like  to  prove  a  long  one.  Yet  even  in  her 
plight  the  magic  wood  had  a  strange  charm  for  the  Greek. 
And  at  last  she  asked,  "  How  far  about  extends  the  grove 
of  the  palace  ? " 

"  How  far  ?  "  answered  Iftikhar.  "  One  might  wander  a 
league  and  more  to  the  north,  and  find  naught  save  glen 
and  fern-dell  and  fountains.  Sei'f  built  it  for  his  fair  ones 
and  poets  to  roam,  and  think  themselves  in  Allah's  para- 
dise. The  singer  Motenabbi  found  his  words  too  faint 
to  sing  its  praise.  Now  by  the  will  of  the  Dispenser  of 
All  Things  it  has  become  the  possession  of  the  Ismaelians. 
Not  Redouan,  lord  of  Aleppo,  himself  dare  set  foot  within 
the  groves,  save  at  nod  of  mine.  Here  we  may  dream  we 
are  upon  the  Fortunate  Islands,  a  thousand  leagues  away 
in  the  Western  Sea ;  and  watch  the  stars  go  round  the 
pole ;  and  listen  to  the  bulbuls  and  the  brooks  singing,  — 
singing  ever  of  revel,  and  laughter,  and  love,  so  long  as 
mortal  life  may  be." 

Mary  held  her  peace  ;  Iftikhar,  too,  fell  to  day-dreaming. 
Of  a  sudden  they  passed  from  the  wood,  and  saw  before 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   BORE   HOME    HIS   PRIZE      305 

them  a  wide  prairie  of  emerald  grass.  Beyond  this  rose  a 
palace  —  one  wide  stretch  of  domes  and  pinnacles,  and  fan- 
tastic colonnades,  and  beyond  the  palace  spread  a  blue  lake, 
close  girded  by  the  forest.  In  the  midst  floated  a  green  island 
covered  with  gay  kiosks.  A  light  skiff,  blue  as  the  waters, 
was  shooting  across  the  glassy  surface  under  a  steady  oar. 
As  Iftikhar's  eyes  lit  upon  the  rowers  in  the  skiff,  he  gave 
a  cry :  — 

"  Morgiana !  " 

"  Did  you  speak  to  me  ?  "  asked  Mary. 

"  No,  Soul  of  my  Soul,"  was  the  answer.  "Yet  see  the 
boat ;  in  it  glides  one  whom,  Allah  granting,  you  shall  love 
right  well!  At  least"  —  and  now  he  muttered  under  his 
breath  —  "  either  you  shall  love  each  other,  or,  as  the  Most 
High  lives,  I  know  whom  I  can  part  with  best,  and  it  will 
not  be  the  Greek  !  " 

And  now  they  were  at  the  portal.  The  brass-cased 
doors  swung  open  without  warning  ;  a  hundred  gaudy  flags 
tossed  out  upon  pinnacles  and  domes  ;  a  great  crash  of 
music  greeted  them — trumpet,  timbrel,  hautboy,  and  cym- 
bal, —  and  a  line  of  twenty  negro  eunuchs,  naked  save  for 
skirts  of  red  silk  whereon  gold  lace  was  flashing,  each  hold- 
ing a  ponderous  cimeter.  At  sight  of  Iftikhar  they  knelt 
and  bowed  their  heads  to  the  mosaic  pavement  Then 
a  single  eunuch  stepped  forward,  tall,  'spare,  gorgeously 
dressed  in  Susangird  damask,  the  jewels  gleaming  from 
ears,  hands,  and  shoes ;  upon  his  beardless,  ebony  face  a 
perpetual  smile.  He  also  knelt  at  his  lord's  feet.  And 
Iftikhar  questioned :  — 

"The  messenger  I  sent  ahead  from  Afrin  came 
promptly  ? " 

"  He  did,  O  Fountain  of  our  Being ;  and  all  is  prepared 
to  receive  and  make  joyous  the  Star  of  the  Greeks  !  " 

"  You  have  done  well,  O  Hakem !  "  replied  the  emir. 
Then  when  two  of  the  negroes  had  lifted  Mary  from  her 
litter,  Iftikhar  led  her  forward.  "This,  mine  own,  is  my 
good  slave,  and  yours  too,  by  name  Hakem,  the  chief  of 
my  eunuchs  and  ruler  of  my  harem."  Hakem  had  risen 
when  his  lord  addressed  him,  but  now  at  sight  of  Mary  his 


3o6  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

smile  became  more  blooming  than  ever,  and  his  violet  cap 
swept  her  feet  as  he  bowed. 

"  Hakem,"  continued  his  master,  "  except  I  command 
otherwise,  the  tiniest  word  of  the  Star  of  the  Greeks  is 
your  law.  Deny  her,  and  the  stake  is  ready  for  your 
impaling !  " 

"  I  hear  and  obey ! "  replied  Hakem,  still  smiling,  and 
touching  his  head,  to  proclaim  his  willingness  to  lose  it. 

"  Go  before  us  to  the  harem !  "  Iftikhar  went  on,  and 
with  only  the  eunuch  and  Mary  Kurkuas,  the  emir  advanced 
within  the  palace.  Mary  saw,  as  they  passed,  court  after 
court,  fountains,  domes,  a  wealth  of  jewel-mosaic  on  floor 
and  wall,  glass  sconces  of  rainbow-tints  hanging  from 
golden  chains.  Then  in  a  cool  inner  apartment  where  the 
sun  stole  dimly  through  marble  tracery  in  the  high  ceiling, 
Iftikhar  halted  ;  and  as  he  entered  three  women,  dark-eyed, 
bronze-skinned,  but  beautiful  as  houris,  stood  —  then  knelt 
before  Mary. 

"  Your  slaves,"  said  Iftikhar,  pointing  to  them.  "  Com- 
mand them  ;  if  they  fail  to  please,  a  word  to  Hakem,  and 
their  lives  are  snuffed  out." 

"  I  thank  your  kindness,  master,"  said  Mary,  very  softly. 

"  Master?  "  exclaimed  Iftikhar. 

"  Assuredly ;  am  I  not  your  slave  as  much  as  these 
women  here  ?  Is  it  not  your  pleasure,  rather  than  my 
right,  that  keeps  me  from  their  servile  tasks  ?  Does  not 
my  very  breath  tremble  on  your  nod  ?  "  And  Mary  stood 
before  Iftikhar  with  folded  hands,  her  eyes  cast  upon  the 
silken  rug  of  Kerman. 

The  emir  broke  forth  with  the  heat  of  glowing  fire. 

"  O  Flower,  whose  beauty  shames  the  rose  of  Khuzistan  ! 
Star,  whose  light  I  have  followed  these  years,  seeking,  hop- 
ing, praying,  striving !  Who  the  slave,  you  or  I  ?  For 
your  sake  have  I  not  sent  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  ? 
For  you  have  I  not  prepared  this  palace,  than  which  is 
not  a  fairer  from  Andalus  to  Turan  ?  What  is  my  life 
without  you  ?  What  my  power  among  the  Ismaelians  ? 
My  hopes  of  sovereignty,  such  as  Zubaida,  beloved  of 
Harun,  might  have  joy  to  share !  For  you,  —  it  is  all  for 


HOW   IFTIKHAR  BORE   HOME  HIS  PRIZE      307 

you !  Without  you  the  palace  is  dungeon ;  the  earth,  wil- 
derness ;  the  fairest  of  Arabian  maidens,  jinns  of  black 
night." 

And  in  the  delirium  of  the  moment  he  caught  her,  held 
her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her  once,  twice.  But  her  lips  were 
icy.  The  touch  of  her  form  chilled  him.  He  shrank  away 
as  from  a  statue  of  marble. 

"  Master,"  said  Mary,  never  resisting,  "  I  am  your 
slave.  You  have  the  power.  I  cannot  resist ;  I  fear  I 
cannot  flee  away.  You  may  do  with  my  poor  body  as  you 
list ;  but  me,  —  Mary  the  wife  of  Richard  de  St.  Julien,  the 
soul  throbbing  behind  this  flesh  and  blood,  —  me  you  can 
never  hold  in  power.  No !  not,  were  your  three  thou- 
sand sword-hands  myriads.  For  my  true  self  is  as  far 
beyond  your  unholy  touch  as  though  I  sat  above  the 
stars  !  Do  with  me  as  you  will,  —  I  laugh  at  you ;  I  mock 
your  impure  wiles ;  for  till  you  hold  me,  soul  as  well  as 
body,  I  am  free  —  free  in  the  sight  of  God,  though  you 
pour  all  your  passions  on  me !  I  love  you  not,  and  never 
shall,  till  the  day  breaks  in  the  west,  and  the  seasons  cease 
to  wheel." 

As  she  spoke,  her  eyes  glowed  with  a  fire  that  lit  another 
fire  of  mingled  desire  and  rage  in  the  eyes  of  Iftikhar. 

"  Hearken,  Star  of  the  Greeks !  "  and  he  again  stepped 
toward  her.  Mary  stood  calm  as  a  statue ;  only  her  eyes 
shone  yet  brighter. 

"  I  have  heard  you  often,  master ;  but  I  will  listen." 

"  I  command  you,  style  me  no  more  '  master,' "  raged 
Iftikhar,  feeling  he  had  conjured  up  a  demon  that  greater 
power  than  his  must  chain. 

"  I  can  style  you  no  otherwise,"  was  the  reply ;  "  for  so 
you  are.  Punish  my  disobedience.  I  can  bear  much." 

There  was  a  little  table  at  hand ;  on  it  stood  a  rock- 
crystal  goblet  and  a  silver  cooler  filled  with  snow-water 
and  rose  sherbet. 

"  Mary  Kurkuas,"  said  Iftikhar,  controlling  himself  by 
a  great  effort,  and  holding  up  the  goblet,  "  think  not  I 
seek  the  deeds  of  mad  passion  and  violence.  My  power  ? 
The  might  that  flashes  in  your  eyes  were  a  myriad  times 


308  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

more !     Love  ?     Yes,  truly  ;  I  would  have  your  lips  seek 
mine,  as  two  doves  flit  to  the  same  nest.     See !    A  pledge ! 

—  by  the  great  angel  Israfil,  at  whose  trumpet  the  dead 
shall  spring  for  judgment,  I  swear  :  I  will  do  you  no  hurt ! 
nothing  !     I   will  teach  you  to  love  me,  until  Constanti- 
nople,   and    Sicily,   and  France  shall  be  as  a   forgotten 
dream,  and  of  your  own  free  will  you  shall  be  mine  own, 
till  Allah  cut  us  asunder." 

He  held  high  the  goblet. 

"  To  Mary  Kurkuas,  fairest  of  women ! "  he  cried, 
drank,  bowed  low,  and  was  gone,  leaving  Mary  with  Hakem 
the  eunuch. 

The  heavy  tapestries  in  the  doorway  closed  noiselessly. 
Mary  stood  gazing  half  stupidly  at  Hakem  and  the  maids. 
Then  at  last  the  eunuch  spoke,  his  imperturbable  smile 
swelling  to  a  fulsome  grin. 

"  O  my  little  birdling,  what  friends  shall  we  not  become  ! 
How  sweetly  shall  we  pass  the  days  together !  " 

Had  his  words  been  hot  irons,  he  could  not  have  affected 
Mary  more.  In  a  trice  she  had  sprung  toward  him,  her 
eyes  flashing  flame.  She  was  in  poise  and  voice  the  great 
princess  of  the  house  of  Kurkuas,  born  to  rule.  "  Toad  !  " 
came  across  her  teeth,  "  did  I  bid  you  speak  ?  Out  of  my 
sight,  you  and  these  wenches,  or  as  I  live  — " 

"  Mercy,  gracious  Citt,  gracious  mistress !  "  began 
Ha-kem,  throwing  up  his  hands  and  rolling  his  eyes,  for  he 
knew  that  he  faced  his  match.  "  You  are  travel-worn ; 
your  dress  —  " 

Mary  took  a  step  toward  him,  snatched  him  by  the 
shoulder,  whirled  his  face  toward  the  door  in  an  instant. 

"  Away  !  "  was  her  command  ;  "  or  if  Iftikhar  did  not 
mock  me,  the  next  word  I  have  for  him  is  to  ask  your  head ! " 

Hakem  shuffled  out  of  the  room  like  a  whipped  hound. 
To  the  maids  Mary  gave  not  a  word  —  simply  pointed 
toward  the  passage.  The  flash  in  her  eyes  sufficed.  They 
were  gone ;  and  the  Greek  found  herself  alone  —  oh,  bliss  ! 

—  alone ! 

The  room  was  large,   high-domed ;   the  walls  covered 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   BORE   HOME   HIS  PRIZE      309 

with  gold  and  colored  enamel  in  fantastic  arabesques. 
Here  and  there  an  inscription  from  one  of  the  poets  in 
silver  mosaic.  On  the  silken  carpet  the  feet  moved  noise- 
lessly. The  light  trickled  through  the  piercings  in  the 
dome,  and  spread  a  restful  twilight  around.  There  were 
divans  of  priceless  Chinese  silk,  an  ebony  table  whereon 
lay  silver  and  crystal  cups  and  coolers,  fruit  and  honey 
cakes.  Upon  the  divan  lay  ready  a  dress,  silk  also,  plainly 
prepared  for  Iftikhar's  new  favorite,  gold  lace,  jewel  em- 
broidery :  in  France  worth  a  count's  ransom  ;  even  in  Con- 
stantinople worthy  of  the  Empress  herself.  It  was  very 
still.  Mary  sat  upon  the  divan  beside  the  table  and  rested 
her  face  on  her  hands.  She  was  more  weary  than  one 
may  tell.  Despite  the  care  of  Iftikhar,  the  journey  had 
been  no  easy  one.  And  now  this  was  the  end  !  Here  was 
the  golden  cage  in  which  the  bright  bird  was  to  be  kept 
fast !  Mary  shed  no  tears  now.  Iftikhar  had  given  her 
a  pledge.  She  felt  sure  he  would  be  patient  within  reason. 
But  in  time  ?  Mary  knew  herself  well  enough  and  Ifti- 
khar well  enough  to  be  sure  that  both  were  made  of  mortal 
stuff.  After  all,  she  was  his  slave  —  to  be  sold  in  the 
market  if  he  chose.  She  had  taken  her  vows  touching 
Richard  Longsword  while  life  lasted.  But  was  he  not 
dead  to  her  ?  Perhaps  dead  to  all  the  world  ?  Did  men 
only  die  to  one  another  when  they  stopped  eating,  talk- 
ing, and  sleeping  ?  She  could  struggle,  could  put  on  her 
majesty,  could  say  "  No  "  a  score  of  times  ;  but  in  the  end  ! 

—  what  end  could  there  be  saving  one!     So  Mary  sat  in 
her  revery,  her  thoughts  as  dark  as  the  ebony  table  be- 
neath her  eyes. 

Suddenly,  as  if  awaking  from  a  dream,  she  heard  laughter, 

—  laughter  musical  as  a  little  stream,  but  with  a  mocking, 
angry  tinge  that  left  a  sting.     Mary  lifted  her  eyes,  raised 
her  head.     More  laughter  —  louder,  still  musical.     The 
Greek  almost  started.     Could  she  not  even  have  sorrow  in 
peace  ? 

"  Have  I  not  bidden  you  all  begone  ? "  was  her  cry,  and 
at  last  the  tears  were  not  far  from  her  eyes ;  for  this  de- 
fiance was  the  last  drop  to  her  cup  of  sorrow. 


3io  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  No,"  came  back  a  voice,  clear  and  melodious  as  a 
zithern  note;  "no,  you  have  commanded  me  nothing." 

"  Then  now  I  say  '  away  '  —  leave  me  alone  !  " 

"  How  sweet  to  see  you  angry !  I  will  not  leave  you. 
See !  I  enter.  I  wish  to  look  at  you  face  to  face." 

The  curtains  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  opened.  As 
they  did  so  a  score  of  little  bells  upon  them  tinkled,  and 
Mary  saw  a  woman  standing  in  the  mild  half-light.  In- 
stantly the  Greek  rose,  and  the  two  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes. 

Morgiana  was  dressed  in  a  manner  only  possible  to  one 
who  felt  the  vulgar  eye  far  removed.  She  wore  loose 
green  silk  trousers  that  gathered  a  little  below  the  knee ; 
her  feet  were  hid  only  by  white  slippers,  where  the  gem- 
stones  were  flashing,  and  white  silken  stockings  ;  arms  and 
neck  were  bare ;  a  gauzy  Indian  shawl,  white  also,  was 
wrapped  about  her;  on  her  girdle  shone  the  gold  chain 
work,  another  gold  chain  around  her  neck ;  the  abundant 
black  hair  streamed  loosely  over  the  shoulders  from  under 
a  jewel-set  fillet.  The  two  women  stood  facing  one  an- 
other for  a  long  moment.  Then  each  broke  forth  in  one 
breath,  but  the  Arab  first. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are  !  —  I  hate  you  !  " 

"  How  beautiful !  —  I  wish  to  love  you  !  " 

The  two  sentences  blended  into  one ;  and  instantly  Mor- 
giana burst  again  into  laughter. 

"  So  this  is  the  Star  of  the  Greeks !  I  give  you  joy ; 
you  are  worthy  of  Iftikhar  Eddauleh !  Ya;  were  you  a 
peri  of  the  deep,  you  could  not  be  fairer !  " 

Mary  bowed  her  head.  "  Lady,"  was  her  answer, 
"  who  you  are  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  know,  you  are 
the  most  beautiful  woman  I  have  ever  seen,  and  if  Iftikhar 
possesses  you,  God  alone  knows  why  he  casts  eyes  on 
me!" 

Yet  again  Morgiana  laughed.  "  God  alone  knows  ? "  was 
her  cry  ;  "  verily,  I  doubt  it.  Were  He  knowing,  and  yet 
able  to  change  the  world,  wicked  He  must  be  to  suffer  the 
deeds  of  men !  You  think  me  a  stranger.  Well,  Morgi- 
ana the  slave  of  Iftikhar  greets  Mary  the  slave  of  Iftikhar, 


HOW   IFTIKHAR  BORE   HOME   HIS  PRIZE      311 

and  Morgiana  adds  that  she  will  kill  Mary,  as  surely  as 
the  evening  follows  the  morn  !  " 

"  Pray  God  that  you  may  have  your  wish  full  soon !  " 
answered  the  Greek,  looking  down.  Her  words  seemed 
to  have  touched  a  new  spring  in  Morgiana.  The  Arab 
threw  her  hands  on  high. 

"  Cursed  are  you,  O  Greek !  Cursed  your  beauty ! 
Cursed  all  who  look  in  love  upon  you !  Let  the  jinns  of 
the  abyss  swallow  you !  Let  Eblees,  Lord  of  Darkness, 
have  mastery  of  you !  May  your  bright  eyes  be  turned 
to  blindness,  your  white  skin  scorch,  your  smooth  arms 
wither  —  "  But  here  Mary  interrupted,  humble  no  longer 
now,  her  own  proud  fire  flashing  in  turn. 

"  Silence  —  madwoman  !  It  is  you  the  evil  powers  will 
curse !  Do  I  need  maledictions  from  you  to  make  my 
lot  less  darksome,  my  cup  less  bitter  ?  Curse  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh,  if  you  will,  whose  sin  and  passion  blast  your 
joy  and  mine  !  Curse  him,  not  me !  "  And  at  this  Mor- 
giana broke  forth  fiercely  :  — 

"  No,  no,  not  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  !  Were  he  tearing  me 
with  tortures,  yet  would  I  bless  him.  Were  he  foul  as  the 
rebel  angels,  his  kiss  were  honey.  Dwelt  he  in  parching 
Gehennah,  to  be  with  him  —  paradise!  No  word  against 
him,  or  here  and  now  I  slay  you !  " 

Mary  made  no  immediate  answer.  Morgiana's  face  was 
aflame  with  passion ;  as  she  spoke  she  swayed  in  half 
frenzy.  Under  her  breath  the  Greek  murmured,  "  She  is 
mad ! " 

"  As  Allah  lives !  "  cried  Morgiana,  her  mood  veering 
swift  as  the  flight  of  birds,  "  I  have  frightened  you !  Un- 
just, cruel,  my  heart  is  half  ice  and  half  fire.  I  have  given 
you  arrows  instead  of  tears.  You  are  blameless,  wretched, 
helpless,  —  what  may  I  do  for  you?" 

And  she  had  caught  Mary's  hands  within  her  own,  and 
was  drawing  her  close  and  kissing  her  forehead. 

"  They  do  well  to  call  you  star  and  flower  of  the  Greeks  ! 
Mashallah  !  how  could  Iftikhar  and  all  the  world  fail  to 
give  all  to  gain  you !  From  Cairo  to  Samarkand  there  is 
none  like  you  !  " 


312  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Mary  did  not  answer.  To  her  Morgiana  was  fury,  houri, 
and  angel  all  in  one  moment.  She  knew  not  what  to  think, 
and  so  kept  peace.  But  the  Arab  ran  on  :  "I  saw  you  at 
Palermo.  It  came  to  my  ears  that  you  were  very  beauti- 
ful. I  saw  you  ride  to  church  once  with  your  father.  I, 
of  course,  was  veiled  and  guarded  by  Hakem ;  and  when 
my  eyes  lit  on  you,  I  said,  '  She  is  not  over-praised.'  Yet 
there  was  a  throng,  and  you  were  not  near.  But  now,  face 
to  face,  I  say,  '  Not  all  the  poets  from  Imr  ul-Kais  to  An- 
Nami  could  paint  in  verse  your  beauty ;  no,  nor  all  the 
angels  who  sing  about  the  throne  of  Allah  ! ' ' 

"  Praise  it  not,"  cried  Mary,  finding  her  tongue;  "it  is, 
as  you  say,  cursed,  —  cursed  for  me,  at  least ;  please  God, 
not  for  those  who  have  loved  me !  I  say  naught  of  Ifti- 
khar;  let  God  judge  him,  not  I!"  Morgiana  bowed  her 
head  in  turn. 

"You  say  well.  Let  the  Most  High  judge  Iftikhar. 
And  now"  —  raising  her  eyes  —  "tell  me;  shall  we  be 
friends  ? " 

Then  and  there  the  two  kissed  one  another,  cried  on 
each  other's  necks,  and  swore  —  so  far  as  spirits  like  theirs 
may  —  to  be  friends  and  sisters.  For  the  burden  of  each 
was  great.  When  they  had  ceased  crying  and  could  talk 
once  more,  Morgiana  led  Mary  to  the  divan,  exclaiming  :  — 

"  Wallah  !  But  you  are  all  travel-stained  and  weary. 
Where  are  Hakem  and  the  maids  ? " 

"As  you  love  me,"  protested  the  Greek,  "do  not  call 
them.  I  will  not  see  that  sleek  eunuch's  face  again.  I 
sent  them  all  away." 

"Hakem!"  repeated  Morgiana,  with  a  sniff;  "he  is  a 
harmless  lizard,  after  you  grow  accustomed  to  seeing  him 
trail  his  nose  around.  His  teeth  look  very  sharp,  but  they 
must  not  frighten  you.  Nevertheless,  if  you  will  not  —  " 
Mary  shook  her  head. 

"  Then  I  will  play  the  tiring  maid !  "  cried  the  Arab ; 
and  she  laughed  when  she  drew  the  pins  from  Mary's  hair, 
and  let  it  fall  over  her  shoulders,  a  shining,  brown  mass. 

"  Wallah!  How  beautiful  you  are  !  "  Morgiana  repeated 
again  and  again.  She  led  Mary  into  a  bath,  where  the  air 


HOW   IFTIKHAR  BORE   HOME   HIS  PRIZE      313 

was  heavy  with  perfumes  of  saffron  and  date-blossoms, 
then  put  on  the  Greek  the  Eastern  dress  which  had  been 
made  ready.  Mary's  heart  was  very  full  when  Morgiana 
laid  aside  the  Prankish  bleaunt;  for  in  that  mantle  she 
had  ridden  beside  Richard  Longsword  over  the  weary  road 
to  Constantinople ;  he  had  given  it  to  her  on  their  wedding 
day.  But  when  the  Arab  wished  to  draw  the  little  silver 
ring  from  her  finger,  the  Greek  shook  her  head. 

"  Silly  !  "  commented  Morgiana,  "it  is  not  worth  a  dir- 
hem ;  I  will  bring  you  a  casket  of  a  hundred  —  ruby,  onyx, 
beryl —  " 

"  My  husband  set  it  there,"  replied  Mary,  thrusting  back 
her  hair  and  looking  full  into  the  Arab's  face.  "  It  was 
to  remain  there  till  I  die."  Morgiana  tossed  up  her  head. 
"Your  husband?  Richard  Longsword,  that  boorish  Frank, 
who  has  a  bull's  strength  with  a  baboon's  wits  ?  How 
dare  you  love  him,  when  you  may  have  the  love  of  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh  !  " 

"  Nevertheless,"  said  Mary,  very  slowly,  never  moving 
her  gaze,  "  Richard  is  my  husband.  I  love  him.  Do 
not  speak  ill  of  him,  or  our  friendship  dies  the  day  of 
birth." 

"  I  have  a  very  cruel  heart !  "  cried  Morgiana,  kissing 
the  Greek  again ;  and  the  ring  was  left  in  its  place. 

They  had  completed  the  toilet.  There  was  a  long  sil- 
vered mirror  in  the  room,  and  Mary  saw  herself  dressed 
after  the  fashion  of  the  East,  from  the  mother-of-pearl  set 
upon  her  yellow  shoes,  to  the  gold-spangled  muslin  that 
wound  above  her  flowing  hair.  "  Holy  Mother  of  Pity," 
she  whispered,  looking  down  at  the  little  ring,  "but  for 
this,  I  were  already  become  an  infidel !  " 

The  next  moment  the  voice  of  Iftikhar  demanded  entrance, 
and  the  two  women  stood  before  him. 

"BismUlakt"  he  exclaimed,  smiling,  and  looking  more 
handsome  and  lordly  than  ever,  "  I  see  two  of  the  houris ! 
You  are  friends  ?  " 

"  We  are  sisters,"  replied  Morgiana,  a  little  defiantly. 
"  I  fled  out  upon  the  lake  that  I  might  not  meet  you  when 
you  returned, — but  now!"  and  she  took  Mary  by  the  hand. 


3i4  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

"  I  will  wait  on  you  no  more  to-day,"  said  Iftikhar,  bow- 
ing in  most  stately  fashion.  But  when  he  had  gone,  Mor- 
giana  gave  a  bitter  cry  :  — 

"  Allah  pity  me  ;  Allah  pity  you  also !  His  words  were 
for  us  both,  but  his  eyes  on  you  alone !  I  have  lost  him, 
lost  him  forever.  The  Most  High  keep  me  from  some 
fearful  deed ! " 

"  I  do  not  dread  you,"  said  Mary,  gently. 

"No,"  came  the  answer,  "you  need  dread  nothing. 
Christian  you  are,  and  Moslem  I ;  but  one  God  hears  us 
both.  Oh,  let  us  pray,  —  pray  for  His  mercy ;  for  lesser 
help  may  not  avail !  " 

Mary  slept  that  night  in  the  same  chamber  as  Morgiana, 
an  airy,  high-vaulted  room,  in  an  upper  story  of  the  palace. 
Through  the  tracery  of  the  lattice  came  the  warm  breeze, 
bearing  the  narcotic  scent  of  those  tropic  gardens.  But 
Mary  was  long  in  falling  asleep  on  her  soft  pallet.  In  the 
darkness  she  heard  the  trumpet-voiced  muezzins  in  the 
distant  Aleppo,  calling  the  midnight  Oola :  "  AllaJiu  akhbar! 
AllaJiu  akhbar!  Allahu  akhbar!  I  testify  there  is  no  God 
but  Allah,  and  Mohammed  is  the  prophet  of  Allah  !  Come 
to  prayer  !  Come  to  prayer  !  Prayer  is  better  than  sleep  !  " 

The  words  pealed  out  in  the  night  like  voices  from  an- 
other world.  Mary  stirred  and  kissed  the  silver  ring. 
"  Dear  Mother  of  God !  Dear  Christ  who  suffered  for  us 
all,  give  me  strength  to  bear  all,  to  resist,  to  endure  ! 
Keep  my  own  heart  true  to  Richard  Longsword  and  our 
love.  Save  me  utterly,  if  that  may  be,  and  if  not,  be  merci- 
ful and  let  me  die  ;  for  the  temptation  will  be  very  great !  " 

Morgiana  started  in  her  sleep;  the  curtain  above  her 
bed  rustled.  "  Dear  sister,"  she  said  softly,  "  go  to  sleep. 
The  day  has  troubles  enough,  without  letting  them  steal 
peace  from  the  night." 

So  Mary  kissed  the  ring,  folded  her  hands,  and  at  last 
was  dreaming. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

HOW  THERE  WAS  FESTIVAL  AT  ALEPPO 

AFTER  the  winter  rains  were  past,  and  when  all  the 
birds  were  singing  in  the  groves  about  El  Halebah,  Mary 
Kurkuas  could  see  that  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  was  waxing 
restive  in  soul ;  both  on  her  account  and  on  account  of 
something  which  was  stirring  in  that  great  world  which 
lay  beyond  the  palm  trees,  the  lake,  and  the  silver  Kuweik. 
What  those  events  without  were  Mary  could  scarce 
guess,  for  had  she  been  transported  into  another  planet, 
she  could  not  have  seen  less  of  what  passed  in  the  realm 
of  armies,  and  princes,  and  battles.  The  moment  the  en- 
chanted groves  of  the  palace  closed  about  her,  all  beyond 
had  been  blotted  out ;  she  saw  no  men  save  Iftikhar,  Zey- 
neb,  and  Hakem  with  his  fellow-eunuchs,  if  these  last  were 
indeed  men.  Once  she  had  asked  Hakem  whether  the 
Crusaders  had  been  driven  back  when  they  strove  to  cross 
Asia  Minor,  and  whether  the  expedition  to  Jerusalem  had 
been  abandoned.  The  sleek  creature  had  only  salaamed, 
and  smirked  deprecatingly. 

"  O  Rose  of  the  Christians,  my  ears  are  deaf,  my  eyes 
blind  to  all  beyond  the  precincts  of  El  Halebah ! "  was 
his  sole  reply.  Zeyneb  she  loathed  from  the  depths  of 
her  soul.  The  dwarf  saw  her  seldom,  although  he  affected 
to  seek  the  company  of  his  foster-sister.  Mary  induced 
Morgiana  to  ask  him  to  tell  of  the  outside  world,  and  was 
met  by  a  blank  refusal.  "  Let  him  twitter  once,  and  Ifti- 
khar would  lift  his  head  from  his  shoulders ! "  As  for 
Iftikhar,  when  Mary  demanded  to  know  the  success  of  the 
Crusade,  he  replied  with  one  of  his  flashes  of  mingled 
authority  and  passion :  "  Soul  of  my  Soul !  ask  me  noth- 

315 


316  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

ing.  My  lips  are  sealed,  save  when  I  speak  of  the  love 
that  burns  me  and  of  the  brightness  that  blazes  from  your 
eyes  !  "  And  no  appeal  could  draw  from  him  more.  Once 
during  the  autumn  Mary  thought  she  saw  from  the  upper- 
most balcony  a  squadron  of  armed  horsemen  riding  furi- 
ously from  Aleppo.  That  day  too  she  heard  one  negro 
eunuch  say  to  a  fellow,  "  Allah  grant  that  they  come  no 
nearer !  "  and  the  other,  "  As  you  love  life,  breathe  noth- 
ing to  your  own  soul !  If  the  Citt,  Mary,  should  hear !  " 
But  this  was  all.  Day  sped  into  day.  No  change  in  the 
monotonous  ease  and  routine  of  the  harem.  Mary  had 
grown  wonted  to  the  unending  round.  She  no  longer  lay 
awake  to  hear  the  muezzins.  Sometimes  she  wondered  if 
she  would  forget  her  Greek  and  her  French,  hearing  only 
Arabic,  save  when  she  talked  with  Eleanor. 

Eleanor  had  been  held  as  captive  by  Iftikhar,  not  because 
he  had  any  unwonted  passion  for  her,  or  grudge  against 
her;  but  she  was  beautiful,  and  he  liked  to  feel  that  he 
held  one  of  the  Longswords  in  his  harem.  The  young 
Norman  had  long  since  bowed  her  head  to  her  fate.  After 
a  manner  she  had  been  kindly  treated.  Less  full  of  energy 
and  unquenchable  vigor  than  the  Greek,  she  had  grown 
content  to  stay  all  day  in  the  harem,  bathing  in  the  per- 
fumed waters,  embroidering,  drinking  sherbet.  Morgiana, 
seeing  she  was  not  likely  to  become  a  rival,  had  patronized 
and  protected  her  against  the  insolence  of  the  eunuchs. 
Mary  had  been  greeted  by  Eleanor  rapturously,  as  if  she 
were  an  angel.  As  for  Morgiana,  the  "  maid  of  Yemen  " 
was  alternately  to  her  sister  and  fury.  For  days  together 
she  would  have  never  a  word  for  Mary  save  an  occasional 
malediction  or  threat ;  then  without  warning  she  would 
repent  in  tears,  implore  forgiveness,  become  gentle,  loving, 
clinging  as  Eleanor ;  and  so  until  the  next  cloud  of  jeal- 
ousy came  over  her. 

It  was  one  day  in  the  early  springtime  when  the  eunuchs 
spread  canopies  on  the  palace  roof.  Here,  with  the  green 
groves  stretching  on  every  hand,  the  three  women  had 
idled  out  the  warm,  sweet  afternoon.  Mary  was  aiding 
Eleanor  over  her  embroidery  frame.  And  now  it  was  that 


HOW  THERE  WAS   FESTIVAL  AT  ALEPPO      317 

Morgiana  told  what  she  had  never  told  before  —  the  story 
of  how  she  fell  into  the  hands  of  Iftikhar.  "  Know,  O 
sweet  sister,"  said  she,  laying  down  the  guitar  on  which 
her  long,  shapely  fingers  had  been  wandering,  "  that  I  am 
the  daughter  of  Jaafar  bin  Shirzad,  who  was  the  Hajib,  that 
is,  Lord  Chamberlain,  to  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful, 
Al  Muktadi  the  Abbasside,  and  that  I  was  born  in  my 
father's  palace  which  lay  by  the  Tigris  in  Bagdad.  My 
father  had  four  wives  and  many  fair  female  slaves,  fair  as 
moons ;  but  most  of  all  he  loved  my  mother,  Kharka,  who 
was  peerless  among  the  women  of  Bagdad.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  Abu  Ahmed,  emir  of  the  free  desert  tribes  of 
Yemen.  From  her  I  gain  my  name ;  from  her  my  blue 
eyes,  which  are  found  sometimes  among  the  Arabs  of  the 
great  waste.  My  mother  was  brought  up  after  the  fashion 
of  her  people ;  not  pent  in  harems,  guarded  by  eunuchs, 
but  free  as  youth  —  would  to  Allah  this  were  the  custom 
in  all  Islam !  From  her  love  of  freedom  comes  my  own 
proneness  to  rush  to  unwomanly  things.  At  Bagdad  my 
mother  pined  for  her  native  sand  plains,  and  died  when  I 
was  young,  leaving  me  to  my  nurse,  —  mother  of  my  ac- 
cursed foster-brother,  Zeyneb.  Then  came  the  direful  day 
when  my  father  lost  his  head  by  demand  of  Melik  Shah, 
the  arch-sultan ;  and  I  and  all  his  harem  were  plunged  in 
slavery.  I  was  sixteen  when  I  and  Zeyneb  stood  in  the 
slave  market  at  Damascus.  At  Iftikhar's  first  sight  of  me 
unveiled,  the  love  sprang  to  his  eyes  as  flame  leaps  on  a 
torch.  He  bought  us ;  and  for  years  he  and  I  were  to 
each  other  as  two  souls  in  one  body ;  the  thought  of  him, 
joy!  sight  of  him,  joy!  touch  of  him,  joy!  So  he  to  me. 
And  in  love  for  me  he  cast  all  the  other  women  from  his 
harem.  Then  —  luckless  day  !  —  he  went  to  Sicily  to  find 
service  among  the  Christians.  There  at  Palermo  I  was 
mother  of  his  child  ;  merciful  Allah  !  why  couldst  Thou  not 
spare  my  little  Ali  ?  But  he  died  —  sorrow  passing  words  ! 
After  that  I  saw  that  Iftikhar  was  drifting  away  from  me. 
First  he  bought  other  slave  women,  though  still  he  gave  me 
chief  place,  and  love  of  the  lips.  Then  on  a  day"  —  and 
Morgiana's  eyes  seemed  fiery  daggers  searching  Mary's  very 


3i8  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

soul  —  "I  heard  Hakem,  chief  eunuch,  speak  of  the  beauty 
of  Mary  the  Greek ;  then  I  first  heard  your  name,  and 
learned  to  curse  you  !  Aye,  curse  you,  as  I  have  a  thousand 
times  since.  Since  that  hour,  day  by  day,  despite  my  wiles, 
and  my  beauty,  and  my  sorrow,  unceasingly  he  has  drifted 
from  me  farther  and  farther ;  and  now  he  has  you  —  your 
body  already,  when  he  wills ;  your  soul,  too,  full  soon. 
And  I  have  lost  him ;  have  lost  him  forever  !  " 

Mary  raised  her  head  to  reply ;  but  Morgiana  swept  on  : 
"  Oh,  it  is  not  the  pain  of  seeing  another  mistress  of  El 
Halebah  ;  of  knowing  I  am  second  when  I  should  be  first ; 
of  feeling,  '  One  whisper  from  the  Greek,  and  at  her  wish 
Iftikhar  would  slay  me.'  But  I  love  him.  To  possess 
him,  though  clothed  in  rags  and  loaded  with  fetters  — 
enough  !  To  hear  him  say,  '  I  love  you,"  as  once  he  did, 
and  know  that  it  was  not  tongue  but  eyes  also  that  spoke 
—  that  were  my  paradise  !  " 

Morgiana  bowed  her  head,  and  broke  into  wild  sobbing. 
The  Greek  put  her  arm  about  her. 

"  Dear  sister,  I,  like  you,  am  the  slave  of  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh  —  at  his  mercy,  his  toy,  his  sport  for  an  idle 
hour  —  but  never  fear  that  I  will  love  him.  Till  I  know 
Richard  Longsword  sleeps  with  the  dead  — 

Morgiana  lifted  her  face  angrily.     "Why  speak  of  Rich- 
ard   Longsword  ?     Who   dares  compare    him    to   Iftikhar 
Eddauleh  ?    Is  he  not  a  boorish  Frank  ?    And  Iftikhar  ?  — 
were  it  not  there  is  but  one  Allah,  would  I  not  call  Iftikhar 
a  god ! " 

"  You  worship  him  ;  yet  you  are  his  slave  ? " 

"Yes!  what  shame?  Do  I  wish  to  be  free?  Are  not 
all  mortals  slaves  of  Allah  ?  And  is  not  Iftikhar  to  me  in 
the  place  of  Allah  ?  Let  men  bow  down  to  a  God ;  but 
what  God  may  a  woman  own  save  a  strong  man,  whose 
love  is  her  all  —  her  all !  " 

The  words  of  Morgiana  sank  to  a  sob.  She  flung  her 
face  in  Mary's  lap  and  wept. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I  see  well  enough  how  it  is  with  you. 
I  have  eyes,  and  wits.  On  the  first  days  you  were  here 
you  loathed  Iftikhar  as  if  he  were  a  snake.  But  he  knows 


HOW  "THERE  WAS   FESTIVAL  AT  ALEPPO      319 

his  game.  He  has  drawn  his  net  about  you.  Each  day 
you  note  his  dark  Eastern  splendor,  so  unlike  the  West ; 
his  speech  like  music,  his  professions  of  love ;  and  each 
day  you  say,  '  I  hate  him.'  But  you  do  not  say  it  with 
the  sting  of  months  ago.  Richard  Longsword  is  becoming 
very  dim  before  your  eyes ;  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  very  real. 
The  change  is  slow;  yet  I  am  not  wrong.  By  Allah,  I 
am  not  wrong !  For  I  see  two  fires  in  your  cheek,  an- 
other on  your  forehead.  You  do  not  shudder,  as  you  once 
did,  at  thinking,  'All  my  life  I  must  spend  in  a  golden 
prison  like  El  Halebah.'  It  will  be  very  pleasant.  Iftikhar 
is  to  become  the  lord  of  all  Islam,  if  naught  fails.  The 
Ismaelians  will  overthrow  Sultan  and  Kalif,  and  Iftikhar 
is  declared  heir  of  Hassan-Sabah.  So  much  I  know, 
though  we  hear  so  little.  And  you  will  reign  with  him 
—  Sultana !  Empress  !  " 

"  As  you  love  me,  speak  no  more ! "  Mary  found  voice 
to  beg. 

"Love  you!"  cried  Morgiana,  in  her  mood;  "do  I  not 
hate  you  with  fury  passing  death?  Last  night,  when 
Iftikhar  spoke  to  you  soft  and  low,  I  could  see  your  eye 
following  his  as  a  weaver's  the  shuttle.  You  are  yielding, 
yielding  ;  soon  —  " 

But  Mary  had  clapped  her  hand  upon  the  Arab's  mouth. 
"  Love  me  or  hate  me,  do  not  torture  !  What  can  I  do  ? " 
was  her  plea.  "  Day  and  night  I  call  to  Our  Lady,  '  Save 
me,  or  let  me  die.'  And  I  am  growing  weak,  weak !  I 
cannot  fight  the  will  of  Heaven  much  longer.  How  easy  to 
defy  Iftikhar  the  day  he  bore  me  hither !  How  easy  to 
feel  my  will  each  day  growing  more  helpless  to  resist ! 
God  is  angry  with  me ;  some  sin  that  I  have  forgotten,  yet 
that  must  be  very  great.  Oh,  pity  me,  for  I  am  only  a 
weak  girl ! " 

So  they  comforted  one  another,  those  two,  whose  hearts 
were  too  full  for  words.  While  they  yet  sat  side  by  side, 
Iftikhar  came  upon  the  balcony.  Splendid  he  was,  in  his 
jewelled  turban,  golden  belt,  and  dress  of  izar — the  gold- 
embroidered  cloth  of  Mosul.  He  made  a  profound  rever- 
ence to  Mary,  then  spoke. 


320  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  O  Star  of  the  Greeks  !  I  your  slave  have  remembered 
that  perchance  even  the  charm  of  the  halls  of  El  Halebah 
may  grow  weary.  Deign,  I  pray  you,  to  be  dressed  this 
evening  in  such  a  dress  as  I  have  commanded  Hakem  to 
provide ;  for  to-night  all  the  daughters  and  maidens  of 
Aleppo  have  been  bidden  to  make  free  in  these  gardens, 
and  there  will  be  festival,  such  as  Bagdad  has  seldom  seen 
since  the  great  feast  of  Moktader." 

"  I  thank  your  lordship,  I  obey,"  said  Mary,  bowing. 
The  emir's  face  lit  with  pleasure. 

"And  you,  Morgiana,"  continued  Iftikhar,  more  lightly, 
"  you,  with  Eleanor,  of  course  will  not  fail  me.  I  would 
show  these  beauties  of  Aleppo  that  here  hid  in  our  groves 
are  the  fairest  eyes  in  Syria." 

"  Cid,"  said  Morgiana,  haughtily,  "if  you  command  me, 
I  will  obey ;  otherwise,  let  me  sleep  and  the  rest  dance." 

"  Ya ! "  cried  Iftikhar,  testily ;  "  you  are  gloomy  as 
Gann,  lord  of  the  evil  jinns !  No  doing  of  mine  can  please 
you.  Wallah,  be  it  as  you  will !  The  Star  of  the  Greeks 
is  more  kind.  To-night !  I  swear  the  poets  of  Emir 
Redouan  shall  sing  of  the  fete  the  whole  year  long !  "  So 
he  was  gone,  and  Morgiana  turned  fiercely  on  Mary. 
"  Eblees  and  all  his  '  Sheytans '  of  the  Pit  pluck  you  away  ! 
What  have  you  done  ?  You  said  yes  as  though  Iftikhar's 
words  were  sweet  as  honey  of  Lebanon.  He  will  con- 
quer you  to-night !  Are  you  blind  ?  Not  for  the  maidens 
of  Aleppo,  but  for  you,  this  fete  is  prepared.  To-night  he 
will  be  master  of  you,  soul  as  well  as  body.  Blind  !  blind  !  " 

Mary  looked  into  the  Arab's  face. 

"O  dear  sister,"  came  her  words,  "you  say  well.  But 
I  am  not  blind.  What  more  can  I  do  ?  Love  him  I  do  not, 
as  you.  But  I  am  helpless ;  Iftikhar  is  lord.  Better  to 
have  an  end.  Hate  him  I  do  not  as  I  did  once.  Time  is 
kind.  I  must  bow  my  head,  and  pray  God  make  me  forget 
the  past.  There  is  no  other  way  —  none.  I  can  fight  the 
battle  no  more." 

"  Dearest  heart,"  cried  the  Arab,  "  it  is  all  true.  You 
can  do  no  more.  If  you  were  not  so  pure  and  lovely, 
I  would  have  killed  you  long  ago.  Only  do  not  tri- 


HOW   THERE   WAS  FESTIVAL  AT  ALEPPO      321 

umph  over  me,  when  you  have  learned  to  love  Iftikhar  as 
do  I." 

"  No,  blessed  soul,"  said  the  Greek,  softly ;  "  that  may 
never  be." 

That  night  all  the  heavens  about  El  Halebah  glowed 
with  the  light  of  myriad  torches ;  lights  on  the  domes  and 
soaring  towers  ;  lights  flitting  among  the  palm  trees;  lights 
tossing  behind  every  myrtle  and  laurel  brake ;  lights  twin- 
kling from  under  the  cool  colonnades,  and  making  the  mist 
of  the  fountains  a  shimmering  spray  of  diamonds.  There 
were  flowers  scattered  over  every  walk ;  flowers  festooned 
about  each  column ;  the  air  made  heavy  with  the  breath  of 
rose,  pink,  and  violet.  All  about  were  set  innumerable 
banners,  streaming  to  every  wind.  Fires  flashed  from  the 
islands  upon  the  lake  ;  and  down  the  enchanted  path  that 
led  through  the  woods  to  the  Aleppo  road  there  was  a 
cordon  of  flambeaux,  making  the  avenue  light  as  day. 

So  much  saw  Mary  Kurkuas,  peering  from  her  lattice, 
while  the  maids  made  her  ready  and  clothed  her  in  robes 
such  as  Iftikhar  himself  had  never  sent  her  before.  At 
last  the  emir  stood  outside  her  door  with  the  petition,  "  O 
flower  more  sweet  than  the  rose,  I,  your  slave,  pray  you, 
come  forth  —  come  forth  ;  the  fete  is  ready  ;  the  stars  await 
the  moon !  " 

Mary  let  them  wrap  round  her  face  the  veil  of  gauze  of 
Baalbec,  and  went  to  meet  Iftikhar.  Never  had  the  emir 
been  more  darkly  handsome ;  his  eye  flashed  with  fire  out- 
vying the  blaze  of  the  great  gems  at  his  girdle.  He  wore 
a  tiara  worth  thrice  the  revenues  of  the  king  of  France. 
The  sheath  of  his  long  cimeter  was  of  beaten  gold.  And 
when  Mary  looked  upon  him,  a  strange  thrill  passed  over 
her  —  what  a  man  this  was,  who  had  loved  her  even  against 
her  will ! 

"  Come  forth,  O  Fairest  of  the  daughters  of  the  Chris- 
tians !  And  let  the  maidens  of  Syria  blush  beneath  their 
darker  skin:  let  them  mourn, '  Our  beauty  cannot  compare 
with  the  loveliness  of  the  Greek  who  is  beloved  of  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh ! '  " 


322  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

So  spoke  the  emir,  and  a  mysterious  spell  seemed  to  fall 
on  Mary.  Under  his  word  and  nod  she  was  passive  as  a 
little  child.  Once,  once  only — the  vision  of  Richard  Long- 
sword  —  rough-featured,  firm-lipped,  framed  of  iron  — 
passed  before  her  eyes,  —  how  dim  it  all  was  !  How  very 
far  away  !  Iftikhar  took  her  hand,  and  led  her  through  the 
mazy  colonnades.  And  women  fair  as  the  dawn  brought  her 
a  great  wreath  of  cool  flowers  that  she  hung  about  her  neck; 
others  threw  upon  the  air  a  spray  of  perfumes  of  Mazen- 
dran,  while  as  the  two  advanced,  the  lights  and  torches 
ever  multiplied  ;  they  trod  onward  in  a  glow  of  brightness. 

"  See  !  "  Iftikhar  had  led  her  to  the  balcony  of  the  colon- 
nade, where  thronged  the  nobles  of  the  court  of  Redouan, 
all  in  dresses  bright  as  the  sun,  but  Iftikhar's  brightest. 
Before  them  and  around  stretched  a  wondrous  vision. 
Mary  saw  the  maids  and  young  women  of  Aleppo,  of  Sultan 
Redouan's  harem  and  of  his  grandees,  dancing,  as  was  their 
custom,  in  wide  circles  hand  in  hand  ;  their  white  dresses 
flying,  their  brown  arms  twinkling,  their  violet-black  hair 
streaming  to  the  wind.  First  they  danced  yet  veiled  ;  then 
as  the  dances  maddened,  they  one  after  another  cast  the 
veils  aside,  and  their  dark  eyes  flashed  in  the  torchlight. 
Round  the  women  in  wider  circles  were  others,  —  three 
thousand  men,  —  also  in  white,  but  with  each  a  glittering 
cuirass  and  cimeter.  And  as  the  maidens  danced  the  men 
broke  from  their  ranks,  and  danced  after  their  kind ;  cry- 
ing aloud,  and  beating  their  swords  against  their  targets. 
But  the  crash  of  the  cymbals,  the  boom  of  the  copper 
kettledrums,  the  wild  wail  of  the  hautboys,  the  flutes,  and 
the  tinkling  Persian  harps,  sounded  above  all.  The  dancers 
caught  up  torches,  and  made  the  ground  spring  with  whir- 
ring light.  As  the  music  quickened,  the  dances  wound 
their  maze  yet  faster.  And  now  the  Ismaelians  rushed 
among  the  women,  mingling  with  them  in  the  dance ; 
plucking  away  the  veils  that  were  still  clinging;  catching 
the  cymbals  from  the  musicians'  hands  and  crashing  them 
yet  louder.  The  whole  scene  seemed  fast  becoming  pan- 
demonium. Mary's  eyes  throbbed  under  the  flashing  of 
the  torches ;  a  desire  seemed  to  spring  through  her  to 


HOW  THERE   WAS   FESTIVAL  AT  ALEPPO      323 

sway  with  the  mad  music  —  to  join  in  the  madder  whirl. 
But  as  she  gazed,  Iftikhar  lifted  his  hand,  and  one  of  the 
musicians  upon  the  balcony,  putting  to  his  lips  a  tiny  flute, 
blew  across  the  raging  sea  of  light  one  note,  clear,  piercing, 
tremulous  as  the  bulbul's  call.  At  that  note  men  and  maids 
were  stilled,  and  stood  gazing  toward  the  colonnade  where 
was  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  with  his  captive  at  his  side.  Then 
Iftikhar  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  parapet,  and  stood  in 
his  blazing  dress  —  a  very  genie  in  mien  and  glory.  While 
he  stood,  lo  !  every  kne.e  was  bowed.  The  women  also  with 
the  Ismaelians  swept  their  foreheads  to  the  ground  ;  and 
while  they  did  obeisance,  Iftikhar's  voice  rang  out  over 
lawn  and  grove  :  "  Ye  'devoted  '  of  the  Ismaelians ;  and  ye 
women  of  Aleppo ;  slaves  of  the  lord  of  Alamont,  of  me 
his  deputy,  and  his  vassal  Redouan — behold!  Kneel, 
tremble,  adore !  For  I  will  show  to  you  the  peerless  crea- 
tion of  Allah ;  the  Lady  of  Beauty,  the  Star  of  the  Greeks, 
who  by  the  grace  of  the  Most  High  shall,  ere  two  years 
speed,  be  hailed  sovereign  princess  from  the  western  sea 
to  the  river  of  India  !  Fall  down  before  her !  For  I  say  to 
you :  the  man  or  maid  who  shall  cross  her  will  or  refuse 
her  adoration  shall  surely  die  !  Since  under  Allah  she 
shall  hold  the  lives  of  you  all  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand  ! '" 

At  the  word,  the  Ismaelians  bowed  again  to  the  earth ; 
then  standing,  three  thousand  voices  cried,  "We  swear 
by  Allah  the  Omnipotent,  our  lives  and  destinies  shall 
hang  upon  her  grace!" 

But  Iftikhar  called,  "Let  Masudi  of  Bozra  stand 
forth  ! " 

A  tall,  handsome  young  Syrian  stepped  forward  and 
stood  before  the  balcony,  his  eyes  cast  on  the  ground. 

"  O  man  'devoted'  to  Allah!"  commanded  the  grand 
prior,  "  lay  your  cuirass  upon  the  earth." 

The  mandate  was  implicitly  obeyed. 

"  Take  your  cimeter !     Fall  upon  it !  " 

Had  the  emir  said,  "  Drink  of  this  wine,"  there  had  not 
been  less  change  in  the  Syrian's  face.  Not  an  eyelash 
quivered,  nor  did  the  lips  twitch,  when  he  held  the  keen 
blade  at  his  breast  and  dashed  himself  upon  the  ground. 


324  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

A  single  spasm  of  the  limbs,  a  red  glow  on  the  green 
sward,  —  that  was  all.  Through  all  the  great  host  stand- 
ing under  the  torchlight  there  ran  not  so  much  as  shiver 
or  murmur. 

"  See,  my  children ! "  cried  Iftikhar  again,  "  this  mo- 
ment Masudi,  your  brother,  sits  down  with  the  maids 
whose  bodies  are  pure  musk,  —  they  who  sit  waiting  by 
the  stream  of  honey  flowing  from  the  root  of  the  tree 
Tuba.  Who  else,  at  my  summons,  will  take  the  journey 
thither  ? " 

And  the  shout  came  back  :  "  I !  "  and  "  I !  "  and  "  I !  "  ; 
so  all  the  three  thousand  cried  it,  and  many  sprang  eagerly 
forward. 

"  No,  my  children,"  warned  the  emir,  upraising  his 
hand.  "Allah  and  our  lord  on  earth,  the  Cid  Hassan 
Sabah,  have  need  of  you.  Full  soon  shall  you  win  all 
the  glory  and  riches  of  this  world,  or  the  kiss  of  the 
houris  !  And  now  bear  the  poor  dross  of  Masudi  away, 
and  think  on  his  bliss." 

As  the  eunuchs  bore  off  the  dead,  Iftikhar  spoke  to 
Mary  :  — 

"  O  Soul  of  my  Soul,  bethink  you,  here  are  three  thou- 
sand of  like  mind  to  this  man ;  and  in  the  rest  of  Syria 
nine  thousand  more.  With  such  a  host  we  shall  conquer 
the  world  —  the  world;  and  over  it,  you,  my  own,  shall  be 
sovereign  sultana ! " 

"O  Iftikhar,"  came  from  the  Greek,  "who  am  I  to  be, 
thus  worshipped !  "  The  voice,  the  throb  behind  the 
voice,  —  the  word  "Iftikhar,"  not  "master" — were  they 
Mary's  own  ?  She  felt  herself  snatched  in  a  current  she 
might  not  resist.  Drifting,  drifting,  and  she  knew 
whither,  yet  in  some  strange  way  did  not  shrink.  Why 
did  the  light  flash  still  more  brightly  in  Iftikhar's  eyes  ? 
Why  did  his  dark  beauty  become  more  splendid  ? 

"  Come  !  "  was  all  he  said.  And  in  that  word  there  rang 
a  triumph,  clearer  than  if  sounded  by  trumpets.  Her  hand 
in  his,  he  led  her  down  the  steps  of  the  portico,  all  strewn 
with  white  bells  of  lilies,  a  carpet  of  blooming  snow.  At 
the  foot  of  the  stair  a  car  which  shone  like  a  huge  carbun- 


HOW  THERE   WAS   FESTIVAL  AT  ALEPPO      325 

cle  ;  and  harnessed  to  the  car  two  lions,  tame  as  oxen,  yet 
tossing  their  shaggy  manes,  and  their  eyes  twin  coals  of 
fire.  Mary  saw  the  beasts,  but  did  not  shrink.  She  looked 
upon  the  emir's  face  ;  in  it  confidence,  pride, —  and  passion 
beyond  words.  How  splendid  he.  was!  How  one  ought 
to  worship  this  lord  of  men,  to  whom  the  lords  of  the  beasts 
crouched  submissive  !  How  he  had  loved  her  with  a  love 
surpassing  thought!  She  entered  the  car.  They  put  in 
her  hands  reins  of  silken  white  ribbon.  But  Iftikhar  him- 
self stood  at  the  heads  of  the  lions,  leading  as  if  they  were 
camels.  Then  he  spoke :  "  Shine  forth,  O  Moon,  to  the 
beautiful  stars  !  Unveil !  "  And  Mary,  her  hand  answering 
his  nod,  swept  the  gauze  from  her  face.  In  the  same  flash 
all  the  palace  grounds  shone  with  the  red  glare  of  Greek 
fire,  so  that  the  flambeaux  made  shadow  ;  and  Mary  stood 
erect  in  the  car,  the  light  making  her  face  bright  and  fair 
as  the  white  cloud  of  summer.  As  she  stood,  she  knew  a 
tremor  ran  through  the  multitude  and  through  the  great 
lords  on  the  portico ;  and  a  thousand  voices  were  crying, 
not  by  forced  acclaim,  but  out  of  their  hearts :  "  Beauty  of 
Allah  !  Fairest  of  the  daughters  of  genii  or  men  !  "  Such, 
and  many  more,  the  cries.  Mary  looked  about;  eyes  past 
counting  were  on  her.  She  held  her  head  very  proudly. 
Captive  or  queen,  it  was  her  triumph  ;  and  to  Iftikhar  she 
owed  it  all ! 

The  emir  led  the  lions  down  the  long  avenue  opened  for 
them  by  the  ranks  of  the  Ismaelians,  amid  the  admiring 
women,  —  straight  toward  the  lake;  and  as  the  car  moved, 
the  Greek  fire  sprang  from  the  very  water,  red  and  blue, 
fantastic  flame-columns,  whose  brightness  blotted  out  the 
stars.  As  they  advanced,  the  multitude  closed  after  them; 
the  torches  on  the  palace  doubled,  trebled ;  every  dome  and 
minaret  was  traced  in  light ;  the  music  swayed  and  throbbed 
like  the  sighs  of  an  ocean  surf.  They  reached  the  shore  ; 
a  second  carpet  of  lilies  ;  a  boat,  long,  narrow,  bowered  in 
roses;  a  high  canopy  of  flowers  in  the  bow;  a  single  negro 
eunuch  standing  like  an  ebon  statue  at  the  stern,  poising  his 
oar. 

"  Come  !  "  so  again   Iftikhar  spoke  ;  Mary  dismounted. 


326  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

He  led  her  to  the  boat,  seated  her  upon  the  roses.  The 
multitude  upon  the  shore  stood  in  silence,  all  their  praises 
in  their  eyes.  The  music  was  hushed  for  an  instant. 
Iftikhar  nodded  to  the  rower.  The  oar  dipped  noiselessly. 
The  boat  glided  from  the  shore  gently  as  the  tread  of  a 
spirit.  Iftikhar  sat  upon  the  flower-strewn  floor  of  the 
skiff,  looking  up  into  Mary's  eyes.  This  was  the  end, 
praise  God  it  was  the  end ;  she  would  do  no  more  now ! 
Iftikhar  had  conquered.  Who  of  mortal  stuff  would  fail 
to  bend  before  such  love  as  his ;  and  he  —  was  he  not 
worth  all  loving  ? 

Neither  said  a  word  for  a  long  time.  The  distance  betwixt 
quay  and  boat  widened  slowly.  The  lights  from  the  gar- 
dens spread  out  shimmering  paths  of  fire  upon  the  black 
waters.  The  only  sound  was  the  distant  music  once  more 
throbbing  from  the  palace,  the  dim  shouts  of  the  revellers 
within  the  groves,  and  the  drip  of  the  water  from  the  noise- 
less oar.  On  high  above  the  feathery  palms  crept  the 
round  disk  of  the  moon.  At  last  Iftikhar,  never  taking 
away  his  gaze,  said  :  "  O  Mary,  my  own,  —  at  last,  at  last, 
—  I  have  made  all  good.  You  are  mine  now  —  body,  soul, 
forever;  for  even  in  Paradise  those  who  love  are  not  sun- 
dered. For  you  will  I  strive  to  win  glory  as  never  man 
strove ;  a  year,  two  years,  and  I  lead  you  into  Bagdad,  first 
princess  of  the  world.  Hassan  Sabah  grows  old  ;  his  glory 
passes  to  me,  to  you,  whose  slave  I  am,  —  and  you  shall 
be  adored  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  its  setting." 

"  Ah  !  Iftikhar  —  "  but  Mary  said  no  more ;  the  emir  had 
interrupted  her.  "  Mine  are  no  vain  dreams.  Kerbogha, 
lord  of  Mosul,  is  gathering  all  the  might  of  Mesopota- 
mia for  our  service.  Amaz,  emir  of  Fars,  is  with  us ;  and 
the  exiled  Vizier  Muejjed.  The  Fatimite  kalif  of  Cairo  is 
our  ally,  if  all  else  prosper.  Soon  —  soon  —  Bakyarok, 
the  arch-sultan,  is  fallen,  the  phantom  kalif  of  Bagdad 
vanished  away,  and  the  hour  for  the  Ismaelians  is 
come." 

Again  Mary's  lips  opened ;  but  the  emir  checked  her. 

"O  my  own!  why  speak  of  this  to-night?  Hark,  let 
me  sing  if  I  may,  as  Antar  the  hero  sang  the  praise 


"  ItTIKHAR   TOOK    FROM    THE    SEAT   A    LITTLE   LUTE,   TOUCHED   THE    STRINGS, 

AND    SANG " 


HOW   THERE   WAS   FESTIVAL   AT   ALEPPO       327 

of  Abla,  whose  love  he  won  by  labors  greater  than  mine ; 
hearken." 

And  Iftikhar  took  from  the  seat  a  little  lute,  touched  the 
strings,  and  sang,  while  his  rich  voice  stole  softly  over  the 
waters :  — 

"  Moonlight  and  starlight  clear  gleaming, 
Over  the  slow  waters  streaming, 

Glint  on  the  lake's  shining  breast ; 
Fairer  my  love's  eyes  are  beaming, 
Where  the  dark  wavelets  lie  dreaming, 

By  the  soft  oar  lightly  pressed  ! 

"  Now  while  the  shore  lights  are  dying, 
Now  while  with  swifter  stroke  plying, 

Flit  we  across  the  dim  deep ; 
Let  us  in  rapt  delight  lying 
Hear  the  mild  wind  gently  hying 

Where  th'  sprites  night  watches  keep  ! 

"  O  that  for  aye  I  might,  sweeping 
Where  the  long  willows  hang  weeping, 

Feel  the  masked  breeze  of  the  west 
Over  our  blessed  bark  creeping  ; 
Then  would  I  smile  in  my  sleeping 

By  my  love's  white  arms  caressed  !  " 

When  he  raised  his  eyes  to  Mary,  she  could  see  they 
were  touched  by  a  gleam  of  awful  fire ;  and  her  own  breast 
and  face  grew  warm,  flushed  with  strange  heat.  The  oar 
of  the  negro  had  stopped  ;  the  skiff  drifted  on  slowly, 
slowly.  Here  toward  the  centre  of  the  lake  the  water 
stretched  beneath  the  moon,  a  mirror  of  black  glass. 

"Mary,  my  beautiful!"  cried  Iftikhar,  half  rising,  and 
he  outstretched  his  arms.  And  Mary,  as  if  his  beck  were 
a  magician's,  started  toward  him  —  the  end!  But  as  she 
stirred,  her  eye  glanced  downward  ;  the  moonbeams  lit  on 
something  gleaming  upon  her  hand  —  the  silver  ring  of 
Richard  Longsword  :  and  a  voice  sounded,  from  the  very 
heavens  it  seemed  :  — 

.     "  Mary  de  St.  Julien,  what  price  may  a  Christian  wife 
give  in  exchange  for  her  soul !  " 


CHAPTER   XXXI 

HOW    MARY    REDEEMED    HER    SOUL 

NEAR  midnight  —  Morgiana  had  gone  to  her  chamber 
early,  but  not  to  sleep.  The  throb  of  the  music,  the  crash 
of  the  cymbals,  the  shoutings  and  laughter  of  the  thou- 
sands, —  all  these  nigh  drove  her  mad.  Twice  had  she 
tried  to  shut  all  out  by  a  fierce  resolve  to  hear  no 
more,  and  sleep.  Useless ;  sleep  was  a  thousand  leagues 
away.  She  had  stood  by  her  lattice  and  seen  the  multi- 
tudes swarming  down  to  the  illumined  quay,  had  heard 
the  praises  of  Mary  Kurkuas  ring  up  to  heaven,  had  seen 
the  boat  glide  into  the  darkness.  And  the  Arab  had  cast 
herself  on  her  cushions,  and  wept  and  wept,  until  her 
tears  would  no  more  flow.  How  long  a  time  sped  thus, 
she  might  not  tell.  When  next  she  knew  anything  save 
her  grief,  she  heard  a  light  hand  thrusting  back  the  cur- 
tains from  her  bed. 

"  Morgiana."  Mary  stood  holding  a  little  silver  lamp. 
The  coronet  was  still  flashing  on  her  flowing  hair,  the  dim 
light  shining  on  her  bare  neck  and  swan-white  shoulders. 
Never  in  the  eyes  of  her  rival  had  she  seemed  fairer. 
Morgiana  stirred,  stared  into  Mary's  face. 

"  You  have  yielded  !  You  are  his  —  his  forever  !  Oh, 
sorrow,  sorrow ! "  So  cried  the  Arab ;  but  the  Greek 
touched  her  cheek  softly. 

"  Hush,  dear  sister !  I  have  not  yielded.  I  have  defied 
him  ;  and  this  time  there  is  a  gulf  sprung  between  us  that 
only  death  can  close.  It  was  an  angel  from  heaven  that 
spoke ;  I  must,  I  will  —  escape  him !  I  must  fly,  fly  —  or 
it  is  best  to  perish !  " 

328 


HOW   MARY   REDEEMED   HER  SOUL         329 

"Fly!"  cried  Morgiana,  startled  now.  "Allah  the 
Compassionate !  You  are  mad  !  "  Mary  checked  her. 

"  No,  not  mad ;  only  I  know  that  I  cannot  sell  my 
soul  to  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  though  he  led  me  sultana 
through  Bagdad.  Listen :  I  had  a  terrible  scene  with 
him  in  the  boat.  God  knows  what  I  said  or  did  ;  I  re- 
call nothing,  save  as  out  of  a  frightful  dream.  But  one 
thing  I  know,  I  am  the  wife  of  Richard  Longsword,  and 
till  I  know  he  is  numbered  with  the  dead,  I  will  lift  eyes 
to  no  man,  nor  angel  either;  but  to  Iftikhar  Eddauleh 
never  —  till  the  endless  ages  end!  Dear  God  —  I  can 
endure  no  more.  I  must  —  I  will  —  fly  !  " 

"  O  dearest  one,"  cried  Morgiana,  troubled  greatly,  "  how 
may  I  comfort  you  ?  say  what  ?  do  what  ?  Allah  pity  us 
both !  " 

"  He  will  have  pity  ! "  burst  out  the  Greek.  "  Follow  me. 
When  Iftikhar  rowed  back  to  the  shore  he  was  in  a  black 
rage.  I  hoped  he  would  strike  me  dead.  He  did  not. 
The  Sultan  Redouan  and  his  lords  were  feasting  in  the 
palace.  Said  Iftikhar  to  the  eunuchs  at  the  quay,  '  I  must 
join  the  revelling,  but  lead  the  accursed  woman  back  to  the 
harem  ;  for  seven  days  she  shall  not  see  my  face,  since  she 
likes  it  so  ill.'  But  the  eunuchs  were  reeling  with  their  wine. 
I  wrapped  a  veil  about  me,  and  evaded  them.  Then  I  wan- 
dered through  the  palace,  as  did  the  other  women  come 
from  Aleppo.  No  one  knew  me.  And  as  I  strayed  by 
the  great  banqueting  hall,  I  saw  one  whom  they  styled 
Aboun  Nedjn,  vizier  of  Redouan,  rise  and  shout  the 
pledge,  '  To  the  confusion  of  the  Christians,  and  may  they 
soon  fight  their  last  before  Antioch  ! '  Then  I  turned  to 
one  of  the  women,  and  said,  '  And  are  the  Christians 
besieging  Antioch  ? '  and  she  replied :  'How  ignorant ! 
All  Aleppo  knows  that  they  have  lain  about  that  city  all 
winter ;  certain  prisoners  of  theirs  have  been  brought  to 
Aleppo ;  and  now  the  Lord  Iftikhar  makes  ready  to  join 
the  great  host  which  Kerbogha,  emir  of  Mosul,  is  gather- 
ing to  deliver  Antioch  and  its  prince,  Yaghi-Sian.'  Then 
I  listened  no  more,  but  fled  straight  to  you.  For  I  must 
fly  this  very  night.  Think,  Morgiana :  at  Antioch  are  the 


330  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Christians  ;  at  Antioch  are  Duke  Godfrey,  and  Raymond, 
and  Tancred ;  at  Antioch,  oh,  joy  !  is  Richard  Longsword, 
whose  soul  is  more  dear  than  my  own !  " 

"  But,  sweet  sister,"  protested  the  Arab,  "  Antioch,  I 
believe,  is  twenty  of  our  Eastern  leagues  away,  perhaps 
sixty  of  your  Prankish  miles.  How  can  you  make  the 
journey  ?  Alone  ?  " 

"To-night!"  cried  Mary,  tearing  the  gold  from  her 
hair.  "  To-night !  All  the  palace  is  drunken.  Even  the 
'devoted'  are  in  stupid  sleep.  No  watch  is  kept,  I  saw 
that  well.  A  late  slave  boy  returning  to  his  master  in 
Aleppo  —  no  questions." 

"  But  the  dangers  of  the  way !  Full  of  bandits,  roving 
horsemen,  the  scum  of  both  armies  —  for  such  must  be 
afield.  You  on  foot !  The  hardships  ;  deathly  peril !  " 

"  Light  of  my  heart,"  exclaimed  the  Greek,  "  let  the 
jackals  prey  on  me  —  beasts  or  more  cruel  men,  —  if  they 
be  not  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  !  " 

"  Curse  him  not,"  blazed  the  other  ;  "  not  even  you  shall 
speak  him  ill.  Fool,  that  you  do  not  love  him  !  " 

Mary  was  tearing  off  her  silken  dress. 

"  Morgiana,"  she  said  very  quietly,  "  you  know  the 
presses  where  the  eunuchs  keep  their  clothes:  —  bring  me 
a  vest  and  mantle,  and  a  turban,  —  the  coarsest  you  can 
find  ;  and  heavy  shoes,  if  any  fit  me.  St.  Theodore,"  she 
cried,  looking  down  at  the  white  thongs  of  her  sandals, 
where  the  gems  were  shining,  "  how  miserable  to  have 
such  small  feet !  " 

Morgiana  obeyed  without  a  word. 

"  Your  skin  !  Your  face  white  as  milk  !  "  she  protested, 
when  Mary  stood  in  the  costume  of  a  serving-page. 

The  Greek  laughed.  "  Have  I  not  mocked  you  often  for 
your  Persian  '  light  of  the  cheeks '  which  you  keep  in  that 
casket  ?  Take  your  pencils  and  your  kohl,  and  make  me 
dark  and  tanned  as  a  true  Syrian  !  Haste  ;  the  night  is  fly- 
ing !  "  As  she  spoke,  an  iron  ball  dropped  from  the  water- 
clock  in  the  corner  upon  a  bell.  "  An  hour  after  midnight. 
Quick,  if  you  love  me  and  love  yourself! " 

Morgiana  did  her  task  with  all  deftness. 


HOW   MARY   REDEEMED   HER  SOUL          331 

"They  will  search  for  you.  You  will  be  pursued  at 
dawn ! " 

"  Say  to  Iftikhar,"  was  the  ready  answer,  "  that  I  have 
wandered  from  the  palace  vowing  to  cast  myself  in  the 
lake.  Let  him  bid  his  '  devoted  '  seek  me  there." 

"  WallaJi !  You  are  a  terrible  maid !  "  cried  the  Ara- 
bian. "  But  how  beautiful  a  serving-boy  !  " 

"  Now,"  continued  Mary,  desperately,  "  shears  !  my  hair!" 

"  Never,"  protested  the  other ;  "  not  as  I  live,  shall  I 
touch  it.  See,  I  will  bind  it  up  beneath  your  turban.  But 
oh,  think  better  ;  do  not  go.  The  danger  is  terrible  !  " 

"  Morgiana,"  was  the  answer,  "  my  husband  is  at  An- 
tioch.  Naught  can  befall  me  worse  than  I  suffer  here. 
You  have  been  a  sweet  sister  to  me ;  and  I  leave  my  kiss 
for  Eleanor.  May  we  never  meet  again  !  Farewell." 

They  kissed  each  other.  Mary  saw  Morgiana  standing 
in  the  dim  lamplight,  her  head  bowed  upon  her  hands. 
Then  the  Greek  stole  through  the  dimly  lighted  halls. 
When  she  stepped  past  the  nodding  eunuchs  who  were 
standing  guard  at  the  harem  entrance,  she  felt  a  little 
quiver.  They  gave  her  never  a  sign.  She  wandered 
across  the  great  entrance  hall ;  only  two  lamps  twinkling 
high  up  from  the  stalactites  by  the  dome,  —  weird,  ghostly 
light.  She  stumbled  on  some  form  —  a  man  sleeping  in 
his  drunkenness ;  for  the  law  of  the  Prophet  against  wine, 
who  had  observed  that  night  ?  She  saw  dimly  low  gilt 
and  ebony  tables  beside  the  divans,  the  food  still  on  them. 
She  caught  some  cakes  of  bread  and  thrust  them  under 
her  girdle,  then  tasted  a  cup  that  had  not  been  drained. 
The  wine  was  sweet,  she  did  not  like  it.  She  wandered 
on.  Here  was  the  portico,  where  another  guard  stared  at 
her  stupidly.  She  passed  outward,  two  others  passed  in ; 
a  dying  flambeau  showed  the  features  of  Iftikhar  and 
Hakem.  Mary  trembled,  but  one  of  the  pillars  was  good 
shelter.  The  emir  had  been  over  his  cups,  and  his  face 
was  flushed,  his  speech  thick,  rapid.  The  eunuch  as  ever 
was  smiling. 

"  By  every  evil  efreet !  "  Iftikhar  was  swearing,  "  I  will 
make  her  bend.  In  the  boat  I  thought  to  win  her  kiss ; 


332  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

she  spat  upon  me !  struggled  so  that  scarce  my  strength 
could  keep  her  from  casting  us  into  the  lake  !  called  the 
name  of  her  accursed  husband !  See  to  her,  Hakem. 
Bring  her  to  more  tractable  state,  and  I  give  a  thousand 
dinars ;  but  let  her  spurn  me  again,  and  by  the  Brightness 
of  Allah  I  will  teach  her  she  is  slave  indeed !  " 

"The  Fountain  of  Omnipotence,"  replied  the  eunuch, 
smoothly,  "is  too  kind.  Let  the  Star  of  the  Greeks  be 
given  into  my  full  custody.  Let  her  learn  to  bow  her  head 
to  poor  Hakem  ;  and  it  will  go  hard,  unless  she  is  all  smiles 
to  Iftikhar  Eddauleh." 

" Ma shallah  ! "  cried  the  emir,  "it  shall  be  as  you  say. 
Well,  I  have  sworn  I  will  see  her  no  more  for  seven  days. 
Tame  her,  as  you  will.  Sometimes  I  curse  the  hour  when 
first  I  set  eyes  on  her.  Why  shall  I  not  deal  with  her  as 
with  any  slave  ?  Why  speak  of  her  love,  her  favor  ?  —  her 
body  I  own,  assuredly.  As  for  her  soul, —  Wallah!  to  us 
Ismaelians  of  the  upper  degree,  if  man  or  maid  have  a  soul 
—  it  is  of  too  strange  stuff  to  be  reckoned  with.  But  come, 
good  slave !  I  have  drunk  too  deep  to-night.  Soon  I  ex- 
pect word  from  Kerbogha  that  our  host  must  move  to  Anti- 
och  ;  and  then  I  shall  have  other  things  in  mind  than 
flambeaux  and  the  eyes  of  a  maid." 

"  My  lord  speaks  with  the  wisdom  of  Allah !  "  fawned 
the  eunuch.  "  I  will  go  to  our  little  bird  to  see  that  she 
sleeps  secure,  and  in  the  morning  she  shall  know  your 
will." 

They  passed  within  the  palace.  Mary  glided  up  to  the 
great  gate.  The  yawning  porters  were  just  closing. 

"  Eblees  possess  you  !  "  cried  one,  holding  up  a  lantern. 
"  Back  into  the  palace !  Will  you  wander  home  to  Aleppo 
at  this  hour?  The  city  gates  are  barred  long  ago."  But 
Mary's  wits  could  work  fast  just  now. 

"Good  brother,"  said  she,  jauntily,  "I  have  stayed  over- 
late,  I  know.  But  if  I  fail  to  return,  my  master  makes  my 
back  pay  with  cold  stripes.  And  I  have  a  friend  on  the 
watch  at  the  gate  who  will  open  when  I  call." 

" Mashallah !  you  speak  a  strange  Arabic!  "  protested 
the  man.  "  Your  hands  are  small  as  those  of  the  Star  of 


HOW   MARY   REDEEMED   HER  SOUL         333 

the  Greeks  that  they  say  our  lord  loves  better  than  El 
Halebah  itself." 

"And  you  too,  friend,"  was  her  reply,  "speak  a  tongue 
that  makes  me  half  believe  you  Christian !  And  no  man 
living  would  liken  your  hands  to  any  save  ditcher's  spades  !  " 

"  By  Mohammed's  beard !  "  exclaimed  the  fellow,  good- 
naturedly,  "  you  have  a  sharp  tongue  in  your  little  body. 
Well,  go  ;  and  let  the  kind  jinns  fly  with  you.  Though 
almost  I  think  you  are  girl,  and  would  cry  to  you  '  a  kiss ! ' ' 

"  Never  to  such  as  you  !  "  the  retort.  The  gate  closed 
behind  her.  All  was  dark.  The  last  lamps  on  the  great 
domes  were  out  Mary  stole  on  in  silence.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  sound  of  bird,  beast,  or  stirring  leaf;  just 
light  enough  to  see  where  amid  the  trees  the  avenue  led 
away  from  El  Halebah  to  the  outer  road.  Along  that 
roadway — sixty  miles  due  east,  so  she  had  reckoned  — 
lay  the  camp  of  the  Christians — and  Richard  Long- 
sword  !  She  was  alone,  and  free  !  For  a  while  neither 
weariness  nor  fear  smote  her.  The  ground  could  not  fly 
fast  enough  under  her  feet.  Again  and  again  she  wan- 
dered against  thicket  or  trunk  in  the  dimness  of  the  trees, 
but  the  way  led  on,  and  she  did  not  lose  it.  There  was  a 
strange  gladness  in  her  heart.  "  To  Richard !  to  Richard  !  " 
O  had  she  but  eagle's  wings  to  lend  speed  to  her 
going !  Suddenly  the  trees  stopped.  She  was  at  the  edge 
of  the  palace  groves.  To  one  side  under  the  starlight  she 
could  just  see  the  untraced  masses  of  something — Aleppo  ; 
to  the  other  side,  the  east,  the  stars  told  her,  the  hill 
and  plain  country  stretched  out  scarce  discernible.  Mary 
turned  her  face  toward  the  east,  and  saw  the  grove  sink 
out  of  sight  in  the  darkness.  Then  she  walked  yet  faster. 

It  was  noon,  and  the  Syrian  sun  beat  down  pitilessly. 
The  spring  foliage  and  buds  seemed  wilting  under  the 
fiery  eye.  The  little  brooks  on  the  hillside  had  already 
dried  to  a  trickling  thread.  Everywhere  the  eye  lit  on 
reddish  sand ;  red  sand-hills  and  plain  country  with  here 
and  there  a  tree.  The  road  had  faded  to  the  merest  trail, 
where  n  few  horses  had  trodden  the  thin  weeds  a  day  or 


334  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

two  before.  Mary  rose  from  the  stone  by  this  roadway, 
where  she  had  been  sitting  beneath  a  solitary  sumac.  She 
had  eaten  her  bread,  had  lifted  the  water  in  her  hands  out 
of  the  tiny  pool.  She  was  weary  —  utterly  weary.  Had 
she  been  told  she  had  traversed  a  thousand  leagues  since 
setting  forth  the  night  before,  she  could  well  have  believed 
it.  Yet  reason  bespoke  that  she  had  come  less  than  a 
score  of  miles.  She  was  footsore,  hungry,  frightened.  The 
caw  of  the  distant  crow  bore  terror ;  the  whir  of  the  wind 
over  the  sunny  plain  half  seemed  the  howl  of  desert  wolves. 
Already  her  feet  trudged  on  painfully,  while  her  unaccus- 
tomed dress  was  dusty  and  torn.  Each  moment  the  utter 
folly  of  her  flight  grew  upon  her.  She  was  alone,  a  help- 
less maid  in  the  midst  of  that  often  harried  country  which 
lay  between  Antioch  and  Aleppo.  Only  once  had  she 
met  human  kind.  During  the  morning  two  swarthy- 
skinned  peasants,  flogging  an  obstinate  ass  toward  Aleppo, 
had  stopped,  and  gazed  curiously  at  this  solitary  youth  in 
page's  dress,  but  with  the  face  of  one  of  Sultan  Redouan's 
harem  beauties. 

"  Brother,"  one  of  the  peasants  had  cried,  "  do  you  know 
that  from  Antioch  to  Aleppo  scarce  one  house  is  inhabited  ? 
The  Christians  —  may  Allah  bring  them  to  perdition  !  — 
have  sacked  Dana  and  Sermada,  and  left  only  the  dogs  alive. 
All  honest  folk  have  fled  nearer  to  Aleppo  or  southward." 

"  I  thank  you,  kind  sheik,"  came  the  answer  in  an  Arabic 
that  made  the  peasant  marvel,  "  but  I  know  my  road. 
Yet  are  there  any  Christians  now  at  Dana?" 

"  Praised  be  the  Compassionate !  Since  the  battle  at 
Harenc  they  keep  closer  to  their  camps,  though  Allah  that 
day  vouchsafed  them  victory.  It  is  told  that  Yaghi-Sian 
is  making  so  many  sallies,  they  are  more  than  taxed  to 
repel  him,  glory  be  to  the  Most  High !  " 

"  I  thank  you,  good  sheik ;  peace  be  with  you  !  "  And 
Mary  had  hastened  on  her  way,  leaving  the  peasants  to 
wonder. 

One  said :  "  Let  us  go  back.  This  youth  is  no  common 
wayfarer.  Let  us  question  him  further." 

But  the  other  wisely  answered  :  — 


HOW   MARY   REDEEMED   HER  SOUL         335 

"  The  day  is  hot.  What  is  written  in  the  book  of  doom 
is  written.  Leave  the  youth  to  God  !  Let  us  reach  Aleppo 
and  rest ! " 

So  they  fell  again  to  beating  the  ass,  while  Mary  dropped 
them  out  of  view.  She  had  been  made  less  weary  then, 
and  the  dialogue  had  lent  wings  to  her  feet.  Presently  she 
came  to  a  wretched  village :  squalid,  dark,  rubble  houses 
with  thatched  roofs ;  a  few  poor  fields  around,  with  the 
weeds  growing  higher  than  the  sprouting  corn.  She  hesi- 
tated to  walk  through  the  single  street,  but  not  a  soul  met 
her.  The  doors  of  the  houses  gaped  open  ;  within  was 
scanty  household  stuff  scattered  over  the  earthen  floors. 
Every  house  bore  signs  of  hasty  leaving.  Two  or  three 
were  mere  charred  shells,  for  the  torch  had  been  set  to 
their  thatches.  Over  in  the  field  a  flock  of  crows  and  kites 
were  wheeling, — some  carrion,  —  but  Mary  did  not  go 
near.  Yet,  as  she  walked  this  street,  as  it  seemed  of  the 
dead,  forth  ran  snapping  and  barking  several  gray,  blear- 
eyed  dogs.  For  a  moment  she  quaked  lest  they  tear  her 
in  pieces.  But  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  they  sank  back 
whining,  and  followed  on  a  long  time,  sniffing  the  bread 
under  her  girdle,  and  hoping  to  be  fed. 

She  shook  them  off  at  last,  half  glad,  half  sorry,  to 
have  nothing  living  near  her.  And  now  she  was  sitting 
by  the  roadway,  looking  down  into  the  tiny  pool  and 
thinking.  She  took  off  her  shoes  and  let  her  little  white 
feet  trail  in  the  water,  —  very  little  and  very  white,  never 
fashioned  by  the  Creator,  so  she  told  herself  with  a  sob- 
bing laugh,  to  be  bruised  by  the  hard  road.  Once  Musa 
at  Palermo  had  composed  verses  in  praise  of  her  feet ;  how 
they  were  shaped  only  to  tread  upon  flowers,  or  to  whisk 
in  dances,  or  be  bathed  with  perfumes  worth  an  emir's 
ransom.  Holy  Mother!  and  what  were  they  like  to  walk 
over  now !  She  looked  at  her  hands ;  as  she  dipped 
them  in  the  brook  nearly  all  the  bronzing  of  Morgiana 
had  washed  away.  They  too  had  been  praised,  times  past 
numbering.  A  learned  poet  at  Constantinople  had  written 
some  polished  iambics,  likening  them  to  the  hands  of 
Artemis,  virgin  huntress  on  the  Arcadian  hills.  How  help- 


336  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

less  and  worthless  they  were  !  Mary  saw  her  face  in  the 
pool  also.  Her  beauty  —  despite  the  disguise  —  her  curse; 
the  bane  of  so  many  lovers !  "  Better,  better,"  came  the 
thought,  "  a  thousand  times  I  had  been  foul  as  an  old  hag, 
than  to  have  my  beauty  lay  snares  for  my  soul !  "  And 
then  the  thought  followed :  "  No,  not  better,  whatever  be 
my  fate ;  for  by  my  beauty  I  won  the  love  of  Richard,  and 
the  memory  of  his  love  cannot  be  taken  from  me  in 
a  thousand  years ! "  Then,  speaking  to  herself,  she  said 
resolutely  :  "  Now,  my  foolish  Mary  de  St.  Julien,  though 
your  feet  are  so  weary,  they  must  prepare  to  be  still  more 
weary.  For  there  is  many  a  long  league  yet  before  you 
see  the  Christian  camp  at  Antioch,  and  set  eyes  on  your 
dread  Frankish  lord." 

So,  telling  herself  that  she  was  a  soldier's  daughter  and 
a  soldier's  wife,  that  the  toils  of  travel  would  be  as  nothing 
to  her  father's  campaign  with  the  Patzinaks,  she  arose  to 
continue  the  toilsome  way.  But  as  she  stood  over  the 
little  pool,  the  water  looked  more  cool  and  tempting  than 
ever.  It  was  tedious  to  drink  from  the  hands  —  a  cup! 
Her  hands  went  up  to  her  hair,  where  was  the  blue  muslin 
turban  so  carefully  wound  by  Morgiana ;  and  underneath 
it  a  silken  skullcap.  She  unwound  the  turban,  her  hair 
fell  in  soft  brown  tresses  all  over  her  shoulders.  As  she 
bent  to  fill  the  cap,  in  the  water  she  saw  again  her  face, 
framed  now  in  the  shining  hair. 

"  Allah  ! "  she  cried,  after  the  manner  of  the  Arabs, 
"  how  beautiful  I  am  !  how  Richard  will  love  me  !  "  And 
she  laughed  at  her  own  complacency.  A  sudden  shout 
made  her  start  like  a  fawn  when  the  hounds  are  baying ; 
then  a  rush  of  hoofs,  an  outcry. 

"  If tikhar  !  He  is  pursuing !  "  her  thought ;  and  Mary 
sprang  to  run  up  the  sandy  hillside.  Not  Iftikhar ;  from 
behind  the  little  sand-hill  to  the  west  six  horsemen  had 
appeared  in  a  twinkling:  all  on  long-limbed,  sleek-coated 
desert  steeds.  Mary  ran  as  for  dear  life,  scarce  knowing 
what  she  did. 

"Ya/  Yaf"  came  the  shout,  in  a  mongrel  Arabic,  "a 
maid  ;  seize  !  capture !  a  prize !  " 


HOW   MARY   REDEEMED   HER  SOUL         337 

It  was  all  over  in  less  time  than  the  telling.  Mary  never 
knew  how  it  befell.  She  was  standing  once  more  by  the 
roadway  ;  two  men,  dismounted,  were  holding  her.  The 
other  four  still  sat  on  their  saddles.  All  six  were  devour- 
ing her  with  their  eyes,  and  pelting  her  with  questions  she 
had  no  wits  to  answer.  Her  captors,  she  began  to  judge, 
were  roving  Syrian  cavalrymen  —  half  warriors,  half  bandits, 
tall,  wiry-limbed,  swarthy,  sharp-featured.  They  and  their 
steeds  were  gorgeously  decked  out  with  strings  of  bright 
silk  tassels.  They  wore  light  steel  caps  polished  bright ; 
at  their  sides  were  short  cimeters ;  over  their  shoulders 
were  curved  bows  and  round,  brass-studded  targets.  When 
they  opened  their  bearded  lips  to  chatter,  their  teeth  shone 
sharp  and  white  as  of  hungry  cats.  At  last  Mary  found 
words.  The  blood  of  the  great  house  of  Kurkuas  was  in 
her  veins.  Even  in  this  dire  strait  she  knew  how  to  put 
on  pride  and  high  disdain. 

"Slaves,"  was  her  command,  "unhand  me!  Who  are 
you,  so  much  as  to  look  upon  my  face !  By  what  right 
will  you  treat  me  as  is  unfit  to  one  of  your  own  coarse 
brood  ? " 

The  curve  of  the  lip  and  the  lordly  poise  for  an  instant 
disconcerted  even  the  Syrians.  But  soon  one  of  them  an- 
swered, with  a  soldier's  banter  :  — 

"  By  the  soul  of  my  father,  pretty  one,  I  half  dream  you 
a  sultana.  Does  Allah  rain  houris  in  youths'  clothes  upon 
the  waste  land  betwixt  Sermada  and  Harenc  ?  Bismillah! 
we  do  not  light  every  day  on  a  partridge  plump  as  you !  " 

"  Let  me  go,  fools,"  cried  the  Greek,  turning  very  pale, 
but  more  with  wrath  than  fear,  "  or  you  will  find  my  little 
finger  large  enough  to  undo  you  all." 

But  at  this  the  six  only  roared  their  laughter,  and  for  a 
moment  ogled  their  captive  with  sinful  eyes  that  made 
Mary's  soul  turn  sick.  She  made  one  last  appeal,  and 
only  her  own  heart  knew  what  it  cost  her  to  say  the  word. 

"  Act  not  in  folly.  Carry  me  to  Aleppo,  and  deliver  me 
safely  to  the  great  emir,  Iftikhar  Eddauleh.  He  will  give 
you  for  me  my  weight  in  gold." 

Another  laugh,  but  the  six  looked  at  one  another. 


338  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Tell  me,"  quoth  the  earlier  speaker,  "  O  Star  that  falls 
in  the  Desert,  how  you  come  here,  if  you  are  possessed  by 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh  ? " 

Mary  only  flushed  with  new  anger. 

"  Beast,  who  are  you  that  I  should  answer  ?  Do  as  I 
bid  you,  or  it  will  be  to  your  hurt !  " 

"  Truly,  O  Yezid,"  began  a  second  Syrian,  "  it  may  be 
as  she  says.  Let  us  ride  to  Aleppo." 

But  Yezid,  who  seemed  the  leader  of  the  band,  gave  a 
deep  curse. 

"  To  Aleppo  ?  We  are  too  little  loved  by  Redouan  to 
risk  our  heads  within  bowshot  of  his  executioner.  Look 
upon  the  maid ;  she  is  one  of  the  Franks,  whoever  she  be. 
She  will  fetch  a  hundred  purses  in  the  market  Yet  I  am 
minded  myself  to  possess  her !  " 

Mary  looked  at  the  Syrian ;  noted  his  coarse,  carnal  eye, 
and  the  impure  passion  in  it,  and  felt  her  heart  turning  to 
stone. 

"  Dear  God,"  ran  her  prayer,  "  give  me  strength  to  bear 
all;  for  I  am  in  the  clutch  of  demons." 

But  the  other  five  had  raised  a  great  outcry. 

"Verily,  O  Yezid,"  shouted  one,  "you  are  a  river  of 
generosity.  Six  of  us  capture  the  maid,  and  you  protest 
that  she  is  yours  alone.  May  Allah  cut  me  off  from  Para- 
dise if  I  part  with  my  claim  to  her." 

"  And  who  are  you,  O  Zubair,"  raged  back  Yezid,  his 
teeth  more  catlike  than  ever,  "  to  dispute  my  right  ?  Am 
I  not  the  chief  ?  When  we  held  the  rich  Jew  without 
water  four  days  since,  did  I  not  share  the  ransom  equally? 
And  now  that  we  possess  this  maid,  whose  form  and  face 
fit  my  eye  as  my  sword  its  sheath  —  "and  as  he  spoke 
he  laid  his  hand  on  Mary's  bare  neck,  making  the  white 
flesh  creep  under  his  foul  touch,  and  lifting  the  soft  mass 
of  her  telltale  hair.  The  five  cut  him  short  with  one 
yell.  "  Never,  insatiate  one ! "  And  Zubair  added : 
"  Let  the  maid  be  sold,  and  the  money  divided.  If  we 
may  not  take  her  to  Aleppo,  let  us  swing  her  across  a 
saddle  and  spur  away  to  Hamath,  where  there  is  a  good 
market!  As  you  have  said,  —  a  hundred  purses  for  such 


HOW   MARY   REDEEMED   HER  SOUL         339 

an  houri  of  the  Franks.  Better  profit  twenty  fold  than 
watching  these  roads,  when  the  Christians  have  swept  the 
country  clean ! " 

Yezid  grinned  more  savagely  than  ever;  and  Mary 
closed  her  eyes  that  she  might  not  see  his  leer. 

"  I  have  sworn  it,"  cried  he.  "  This  once  must  you 
sons  of  Eblees  give  way.  I  like  the  girl  well.  Not  for 
an  Hundred  purses  would  I  part  with  her.  Is  she  not  my 
captive  ?  shall  I  not  bear  her  away  to  the  mountains  where 
is  our  camp,  and  the  other  women  ?  " 

Mary  closed  her  eyes  tighter.  She  knew  then,  if  not 
before,  that  it  had  been  a  mad  boast  indeed  when  she  said 
to  Morgiana,  "  Naught  can  befall  me  worse  than  I  surfer 
here  at  El  Halebah."  The  evening  before,  she  had  been 
hailed  princess,  sovereign  of  thousands  —  and  now !  Her 
eyes  she  could  close;  not  her  ears,  and  the  foul  speech 
of  the  angry  Syrians  smote  them,  though  her  sense  grew 
numb  by  sheer  agony.  Louder  and  louder  the  quarrel. 
Presently  she  heard  a  great  shout  from  Yezid. 

"  By  the  Beard  of  Mohammed !  either  you  shall  give 
the  girl  up  to  me,  to  work  my  will,  or  my  cimeter  is  in 
her  breast."  His  clutch  tightened,  and  Mary  saw  through 
her  eyelashes  a  bright  blade  held  before  her.  "  Death  at 
last,  the  Blessed  Mother  be  praised ! "  and  she  closed 
her  eyes,  and  tried  to  murmur  the  words  of  "  Our  Father." 
But  the  voice  of  Zubair  grew  conciliatory.  "  Valiant  cap- 
tain, not  so  angry.  You  have  the  chief  claim,  but  not  the 
only  one.  Let  us  not  broil,  good  comrades  that  we  are. 
True  the  Prophet  —  on  whom  be  peace  —  forbids  dice  ; 
but  Allah  will  be  compassionate,  and  I  have  some  about 
me.  Let  us  cast  for  the  maid.  You  win  and  possess  her. 
We,  —  she  goes  to  Hamath,  and  the  sale's  money  is  di- 
vided amongst  us  five!" 

Yezid  began  to  growl  in  his  beard,  but  the  shout  of  the 
rest  silenced  him.  "  Let  it  be  as  you  said  !  "  he  muttered. 
And  Mary,  opening  her  eyes,  now  saw  Zubair  and  the 
chief  standing  by  the  rock,  and  shaking  the  dice  in  the 
hollows  of  their  hands.  How  strange  it  all  looked !  On 
the  cast  of  four  bits  of  ivory  her  own  weal  or  woe  was 


340  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

hanging !  The  fortune  of  her  —  a  Grecian  princess,  a 
baroness  of  France,  a  Sultana  of  the  Ismaelians!  Was  it 
not  a  dream  ?  One  cast,  —  a  curse  from  Zubair.  A 
second,  —  Yezid  smiled  and  smirked  toward  her.  Again 
Zubair  cast,  —  again  he  cursed ;  and  when  Yezid  lifted 
his  hand  he  gave  a  loud,  beastly  laugh. 

"  Praises  be  to  Allah !  You  have  all  lost.  This  houri, 
comes  she  here  from  the  clouds  or  from  Aleppo,  is  mine. 
Ya  !  I  can  wait  no  more  to  kiss  her  !  "  But  just  as  Mary 
felt  sight  and  sound  reeling  when  he  seized  her,  there  was 
a  great  howl  from  the  Syrians. 

"  Flight !  To  horse  !  O  Allah,  save  !  "  And  down  the 
eastern  road  Mary  saw,  not  six,  but  sixty,  cavalrymen  in 
headlong  gallop ;  all  with  white  robes  and  turbans,  and  at 
the  head  a  rider  whose  armor  was  bright  as  the  sun. 

"  Away,  my  peacock ! "  shouted  Yezid,  who,  even  in 
that  moment,  tried  to  swing  Mary  into  his  saddle  before 
him.  But  as  the  words  sped  from  his  sinful  throat,  a  shaft 
of  Iftikhar  went  through  his  horse's  flank,  and  the  wounded 
beast  was  plunging. 

"Allah  aklibar!"  the  yell  of  the  Ismaelians  as  they 
swept  around  Mary's  captors,  almost  ere  the  luckless 
bandits  could  strike  spur ;  and  it  was  Iftikhar's  own  hand 
that  plucked  Mary  from  the  clutch  of  Yezid. 

"Bind  fast!"  his  command.  "  Bismillah  !  what  were 
they  about  to  do  ?  " 

"This  beast  had  won  me  at  dice.  He  was  to  carry  me 
to  his  den  in  the  mountains,  he  boasted,"  Mary  said,  with 
twitching  lips. 

"  Mercy,  O  Sea  of  Compassion  !  "  Yezid  was  whining ; 
"how  should  I  know  that  I  offended  my  lord  ? " 

"  Ya"  hissed  Iftikhar;  "strike  off  the  heads  of  these 
five  here ;  let  the  jackals  eat  them.  But  their  chief  shall 
go  to  Aleppo,  where  we  will  plunge  his  head  in  a  sack  of 
quicklime." 

Then,  with  not  a  word  to  Mary,  he  had  his  men  devise 
a  horse-litter,  placed  her  in  it,  and  the  whole  troop  headed 
again  for  Aleppo. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

HOW   MORGIANA    PROFFERED   TWO   CUPS 

IT  was  the  next  morning  at  El  Halebah  that  Mary  found 
Morgiana  in  her  aviary.  Here,  in  a  broad  chamber  at  the 
top  of  the  palace,  too  high  for  any  vulgar  eye-  that  chanced 
across  the  Kuweik  to  light  on  the  dwellers  of  this  wind- 
loved  spot,  the  Arabian  had  her  eyry.  The  high  openings 
in  the  walls  were  overhung  with  fine,  nigh  invisible  net- 
tings, the  floor  strewn  with  white  sand ;  and,  despite  the 
height,  means  had  been  found  to  keep  a  little  fountain  play- 
ing in  a  silver  basin ;  and  just  now  two  finches  were  gayly 
splashing  in  its  tiny  pool.  All  around  in  deep  tubs  were 
growing  oleanders,  myrtle,  laurel,  although  the  birds  made 
difficult  the  lives  of  the  blossoms ;  there  were  hairy  ferns, 
and  the  scent  of  sweet  thyme  was  in  the  air;  around 
the  arabesqued  columns  roved  dark,  cool  ivy;  in  and  out 
through  the  meshes  of  the  netting  buzzed  the  adven- 
turous honey-bee,  flying  thus  high  in  hopes  of  spoil. 
Everywhere  were  the  birds  —  finch,  thrush,  sparrow, 
ring-dove,  and  even  a  nightingale  that,  despite  the  droop- 
ing for  his  vanished  freedom,  Morgiana  had  by  some 
magic  art  persuaded  to  sing  evening  after  evening,  and 
make  the  whole  room  one  garden  of  music.  As  the  young 
Arabian  stood,  upon  her  shoulder  perched  a  consequential 
blackcap  cocking  his  saucy  head ;  and  a  wood-pigeon  was 
hovering  over  her  lips  trying  to  carry  away  the  grain  there 
in  his  bill.  Morgiana  had  named  all  the  birds,  and  they 
learned  to  answer  to  their  calls.  As  for  fearing  her,  they 
would  sooner  have  fluttered  at  their  own  shadows.  Mary 
pushed  back  the  door,  stepped  inside,  and  as  she  did  so  a 


342  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

whir  of  wings  went  through  all  the  plants,  for  she  was  not 
so  well  known  to  the  birds  as  was  their  mistress.  But  after 
the  first  flash  and  chirp  there  was  silence  once  more,  save 
as  the  doves  in  one  corner  kept  up  their  coo,  coo,  around  a 
cherished  nest.  Morgiana  opened  her  lips ;  the  pigeon 
swept  away  the  grain,  and  lit  upon  a  laurel  spray,  proud  of 
his  booty.  Then  the  Arabian  turned  to  her  visitor.  The 
Greek  was  very  pale ;  under  her  eyes  dark  circles  and  red, 
as  if  she  had  slept  little  and  crie4  much.  For  a  moment 
she  did  not  speak.  Then  Morgiana  brushed  the  blackcap 
from  her  shoulder,  and  ran  and  put  her  arms  about  Mary. 

"Ah!  sweet  sister,  —  so  I  have  you  back  again!  It 
was  as  I  said,  folly,  impossible  madness." 

"  Yes,  madness ! "  answered  the  Greek,  very  bitterly. 
"  I  was  indeed  mad  to  forget  that  I  am  naught  but  a  weak 
woman,  made  to  be  admired  and  toyed  with,  for  strong 
men's  holiday.  But  oh,  it  was  passing  sweet  at  first  to 
think, '  I  am  free  —  I  am  going  to  Richard  ! ' '  And  at  the 
name  of  the  Norman,  her  eyes  again  were  bright  with 
tears. 

"  O  dearest  and  best !  "  cried  Morgiana,  clasping  her 
closer,  "  what  can  I  say  to  you,  how  comfort  you  ?  I 
heard  the  eunuchs  tell  of  the  plight  in  which  Iftikhar 
found  you.  My  blood  runs  chill  as  I  speak.  Allah ! 
There  are  worse  things  than  to  be  a  captive  of  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh ! " 

"  You  say  well,  my  sister ;  but  how  came  Iftikhar  to 
follow  me?  You  did  not  betray?  You  told  the  tale  I 
gave  you  ? " 

"Yes,"  protested  the  Arab,  with  half  a  laugh.  "But 
in  the  morning,  while  Iftikhar  foamed  and  the  eunuchs 
dragged  the  pond,  there  came  on  me  the  desire  to  breathe 
the  hemp  smoke,  and  when  the  craving  comes,  not  all  the 
jinns  of  the  abyss  may  stop  me.  And  as  I  reeled  over 
the  smoke,  I  saw  you  in  direful  peril,  clutched  by  wanton 
hands,  facing  a  fate  worse  than  death !  Then  I  fought 
with  myself.  You  were  gone  at  last !  And  my  evil  nature 
said  to  me,  '  Leave  the  Greek  to  her  living  death.  Ifti- 
khar is  yours  alone,  you  may  win  back  his  heart  again,  and 


HOW  MORGiANA   PROFFERED  TWO   CUPS     343 

be  happy  —  happy  ! '  But,  O  dearest,  when  I  thought  of 
your  agony,  I  could  not  be  silent.  I  told  Iftikhar  whither 
you  had  fled,  and  he  spurred  after  and  saved  you." 

"  Yes,"  echoed  Mary,  "  he  has  '  saved '  me,  as  you  well 
say.  Not  a  word  did  he  speak  to  me  on  the  homeward 
journey.  Last  night  I  fell  asleep  the  moment  my  head 
touched  the  pillow.  Oh,  bliss,  how  sweet  that  long  sleep 
was !  And  in  it  I  saw  Richard  Longsword,  and  he  was 
holding  my  hand,  and  I  could  look  up  into  his  face.  Then 
I  awoke  —  Hakem,  near  me,  saying  that  by  the  command 
of  the  emir  hereafter  he  was  to  have  my  ordering !  It 
was  passing  from  heaven  to  nethermost  hell.  And  here 
I  am  again  !  Helpless,  passive,  for  others  to  work  their 
will  upon !  while  twenty  leagues  away  lies  Antioch  and 
Richard  and  perfect  joy.  Yet  I  thank  you,  sister, — there  is 
something  worse  than  to  be  in  the  hands  of  Iftikhar,  but 
God  alone  knows  if  there  be  anything  I  may  pay  you  for  the 
debt  I  owe." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  a  good  God  ?  "  said  Morgiana,  step- 
ping backward  and  looking  into  the  Greek's  eyes. 

"  Do  not  Christians  and  Moslems  alike  believe  in  Him  ?  " 
was  the  wondering  answer. 

"Then,"  persisted  Morgiana,  a  fierce  ring  coming  into 
her  tone ;  "  why  does  He  suffer  you  to  endure  such  sor- 
row?" 

"  He  alone  knows,"  was  the  reply.  "  It  is  as  I  said,  — 
some  fearful  sin  that  I  have  committed  and  forgotten ;  or 
else"  —  and  there  was  a  new  brightness  in  the  eye  of  the 
Greek  —  "I  am  permitted  to  endure  some  pain  that  my 
husband  had  otherwise  been  made  to  bear." 

"  O  foolish  one !  "  came  the  retort  of  the  Arabian.  "  You 
sin  ?  The  soul  of  Allah  is  not  whiter  than  yours ;  no,  not 
as  white  !  Richard  Longsword  is  strong  enough  to  endure 
his  own  pains ;  yes,  and  has  endured  them  if  you  are  to 
him  as  he  to  you  !  I  will  curse  God  —  you  may  not  stay 
me.  Unkind,  cruel,  He  is !  All-powerful  indeed,  yet  using 
His  power  to  plunge  His  creatures  into  misery !  " 

The  Greek  shuddered.  "  Beware !  He  will  strike  you 
dead  !  "  her  warning. 


344  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

"  Dead  ?  "  echoed  Morgiana,  lifting  her  dark  bare  arms 
high,  as  if  calling  down  heavenly  wrath,  and  bidding  it 
welcome ;  "  almost  I  think  His  power  ends  there  !  If  He 
had  mercy  on  me,  I  were  dead  long  ago.  But  no  —  I  go 
on,  living,  breathing,  talking,  laughing,"  —  and  here  she  did 
indeed  laugh,  in  a  terrible  manner  that  made  Mary  quake. 

"  Pity  me.  God  is  angry  enough  with  us  already.  Anger 
Him  no  more  !  "  cried  the  Greek. 

Morgiana  laughed  again.  "Hei!"  she  continued,  "let 
us  look  at  our  case  with  both  eyes.  You  are  back  again  at 
El  Halebah.  By  your  flight  Iftikhar  assuredly  considers 
his  pledge  to  you  at  an  end.  What  do  you  expect  ? " 

"  To  be  treated  like  any  other  captive  of  his  '  bow  and 
spear,'  as  you  people  say.  To  be  at  his  will,  sometimes 
to  be  caressed  as  these  birds  are  by  you,  sometimes 
neglected ;  when  I  grow  old  or  out  of  favor  to  see  new 
women  thrust  before  me,  as,  St.  Theodore  pity  me,  I 
have  supplanted  you.  I  shall  in  time  grow  sleepy,  fat,  and 
in  a  poor  way  contented ;  for  such  is  the  manner  of  the 
harem.  Within  four  walls  and  a  garden  I  shall  live  out 
my  life.  If  God  is  still  angry,  I  shall  become  very  old. 
At  last  I  shall  die  —  when  I  shall  have  been  among  you 
Moslems  so  long  that  I  can  scarce  remember  'Our  Father.' 
Where  my  soul  then  will  go,  I  know  not ;  it  will  be  worth 
little ;  sodden  and  dried  by  this  cageling's  life  till  an  ox's 
were  nobler." 

"  O  dearest,"  cried  the  Arabian,  laughing,  but  half  in 
tears  now,  "  your  words  are  arrows  to  my  soul.  You  must 
be  free,  free  —  either  you  or  I.  What  would  you  give  to 
be  truly  free  ?  Give  for  rest,  peace,  joy,  an  end  of  sorrow, 
struggle,  longing  ? " 

"  That  waits  only  beyond  the  stars,"  answered  the 
Greek.  But  she  started  when  she  saw  the  wandering 
glitter  in  Morgiana's  eyes,  and  there  was  a  wild  half-rhythm. 
in  the  Arabian's  words  when  she  replied :  "  Why  not 
the  stars  and  beyond  ?  Why  not  seek  out  the  pathways 
of  the  moon,  the  gates  of  the  sun,  the  enchanted  islands  of 
the  sweet  West,  and  rest,  rest,  sleep,  sleep  —  pangless, 
painless,  passionless  !  " 


HOW  MORGIANA   PROFFERED  TWO   CUPS     345 

"  Morgiana  !  "  exclaimed  Mary.  The  other  answered 
still  in  half-chant.  "  Yes,  there  is  a  way  —  a  way.  I  will 
go,  will  return,  and  to  one  of  us  the  door  is  opened,  —  opened 
wide  !  " 

Then  with  a  gliding,  uneasy  step  she  started  away. 
"  Back  !  "  warned  Morgiana  to  Mary,  who  attempted  to  fol- 
low. "  I  will  do  myself  no  harm.  I  return  at  once." 
Almost  immediately  she  reentered,  in  each  hand  a  silver 
cup,  the  cups  identical,  each  filled  with  violet  sherbet.  She 
set  them  upon  the  slab  by  the  fountain.  There  was  no 
madness  in  her  glance  now. 

"  I  am  thirsty,"  said  the  Greek,  simply  ;  "  may  I  drink  ?  " 

"  Drink  ?  "  repeated  the  Arabian,  with  a  strange  intona- 
tion. "  Yes,  in  Allah's  name,  but  first  hearken  !  Many 
years  ago,  in  Bagdad,  a  wise  old  woman  taught  me  of  an 
Indian  drug,  two  pellets,  small  as  shrivelled  peas,  in  a  little 
wine.  Drink,  and  go  to  sleep  —  sleep  so  sound  that  you 
waken  only  when  Moukir  and  Nakir,  the  death  angels,  sift 
soul  from  body.  In  Palermo,  Iftikhar  brought  to  his 
harem  a  Moorish  girl.  It  was  the  hour  of  the  beginning 
of  my  sorrow.  A  little  made  my  breast  fire,  and  my 
jealousy  was  swifter  than  the  falling  stars,  which  are 
Allah's  bolts  against  the  rebel  efreets.  One  night  when 
the  Moor  drank  sherbet,  she  tasted  nothing,  she  went  to 
sleep  ;  they  found  her  body  with  a  smile  on  the  lips  —  her 
soul  —  ?  Ask  the  winds  and  the  upper  air." 

Mary's  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  silver  cups ;  were 
they  brimmed  with  nectar  of  the  old  Greek  gods  that 
they  should  charm  her  so  ?  She  heard  her  heart-beats, 
and  bated  her  breath  while  Morgiana  continued  :  "  You 
wish  to  be  free.  So  do  I.  Life  is  terrible  to  you ;  only 
when  you  sleep  is  there  peace,  fair  visions,  joy.  Do  you 
know,  I  had  resolved,  when  I  learned  Iftikhar  was  bring- 
ing you  to  Aleppo,  that  you  should  drink  of  sherbet  from 
my  hands  the  first  night  of  all ;  and  wake  —  where  even 
Iftikhar's  eagle  eye  could  never  follow  you  ? " 

"  Holy  Mother  !  why  did  you  spare  me  ? "  came  across 
Mary's  teeth. 

"  Why  ?     Because,  when  I  saw  you  pure  as  a  lily  of  the 


346  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

spring,  and  so  fair  that  the  rose  blushed  in  redder  shame 
before  you,  and  knew  that  your  sorrow  passed  mine,  —  I 
had  no  will  to  kill  you.  Yes,  your  very  love  for  death 
disarmed  my  hate.  And  now?"  —  she  pointed  to  the 
cups. 

Mary  felt  herself  held  captive  as  her  spellbound  gaze 
followed  Morgiana. 

The  Arabian  knelt  by  the  marble  slab ;  took  up  the  two 
cups ;  held  them  forth. 

"  Mary,  Star  of  the  Greeks,"  said  Morgiana,  looking 
straight  into  the  Christian's  eyes,  "  you  believe  in  God ; 
that  He  is  good ;  that  He  orders  all  things  well.  Be  it  so. 
Then  either  He  ordains  that  you  spend  your  life  the  slave 
of  Iftikhar,  or  that  you  be  free.  Either  He  ordains  that  I 
should  possess  Iftikhar,  and  he  me  —  me  only,  or  that 
I  should  flit  far  hence,  where  pang  and  remembrance  of 
my  loss  can  never  follow.  Therefore  I  say  this.  Here 
are  two  cups,  alike  as  two  drops  of  the  spraying  fountain. 
In  one,  —  but  I  say  not  which,  —  I  have  placed  the  pellet 
of  the  Indian  drug.  The  cups  I  cannot  tell  apart,  save  as 
I  remember.  You  shall  take  the  cups.  I  leave  the  room. 
You  shall  place  them  where  you  will,  only  so  that  I  may 
forget  which  has  received  the  magic  pellet.  I  will  then 
return.  You  shall  drink  of  one,  whichever  you  choose,  — 
I  the  other.  We  shall  kiss  one  another  three  times,  lie 
down  on  the  divan,  and  rest.  Whom  Allah  wills,  shall 
awake  beyond  the  stars ;  whom  Allah  wills,  shall  awake 
in  El  Halebah !  All  is  left  to  God.  There  is  no  taste, 
no  pang ;  only  sleep,  sweet  as  a  child  on  its  mother's 
arm.  For  every  day  my  love  for  you  grows ;  but 
every  day  my  heart  says,  '  Except  Mary  the  Christian 
and  Morgiana  the  Moslem  be  sundered  by  seven  seas,  woe 
—  only  woe  —  for  both  ! ' '  Still  the  Greek  did  not  reply. 
What  were  these  visions  flitting  before  her  eyes  ?  Not  the 
birds ;  not  the  feathery  palm  groves  waving  beneath  the 
palace  walls.  All  her  past  life  was  there,  —  her  father's 
stately  house  in  Constantinople;  the  glory  of  the  great 
city ;  the  wild  scenes  of  the  escape  to  Sicily ;  Richard 
Longsword  plucking  her  from  the  Berbers ;  the  tourney  — 


HOW   MORGIANA   PROFFERED   TWO  CUPS      347 

De  Valmont  in  his  blood ;  the  hour  when  Richard  touched 
her  lips  with  the  first  kiss ;  the  marriage ;  the  last  sight  of 
her  husband  in  the  morning  twilight  at  Dorylaeum.  Scene 
upon  scene,  a  wild,  moving  pageant ;  yet  behind  all  seemed 
to  hover  the  shadow  of  Iftikhar — Iftikhar,  the  cause  of 
sorrow  and  tears  unnumbered.  Still  Morgiana  held 
out  the  cups.  "  Taste  !  "  she  was  saying.  "  You  cannot 
tell.  All  is  in  the  hands  of  God,  —  whether  you  bow  your 
head  to  your  fate,  or  to-night  the  moonbeams  are  your 
pillow ;  or  whether  I  am  escaped  from  all  my  heartache ; 
can  flit  over  your  couch  on  unseen  wing,  and  teach  you  to 
endure,  as  best  you  may,  till  the  hour  comes  when  hand  in 
hand  we  can  fly  up  the  path  of  the  sun  and  join  in  the 
dance  of  the  winds." 

As  bidden,  Mary  touched  her  finger  first  m  one  cup  then 
in  the  other,  placing  each  drop  in  turn  on  her  lips.  The 
same  —  she  might  have  drained  both  goblets  and  known 
no  difference.  Truly  the  issue  was  with  God !  And  still 
Morgiana  proffered. 

"  Take ;  we  have  been  dear  sisters  together.  How  can 
I  bless  Allah  when  I  desire  to  love  you  so,  yet  know  that 
your  life  is  misery  to  me,  as  misery  to  you  ?  You  have 
many  times  said  you  prayed  for  death." 

And  then  Mary  spoke,  a  wondrous  spell  binding  her :  — 

"Not  so,  Morgiana,  —  unfair.  Why  should  I  live  and 
you  die  ?  Let  me  drink  alone  of  this  blessed  drug  that 
makes  the  heart  cease  bleeding.  And  you  may  live  —  live 
and  be  glad  with  Iftikhar." 

Morgiana  shook  her  raven-black  hair,  and  spoke  with  an 
awful  smile. 

"  Always  is  death  sweet —  I  will  not  shun  it,  if  Allah  so 
wills.  All  I  know  is,  we  twain  cannot  live  together;  not 
in  this  world.  Perhaps  it  is  the  Most  High's  will  that  I 
should  go  out,  and  you  remain  to  give  joy  to  Iftikhar. 
We  leave  all  to  Him.  Then  let  us  drink ;  and  each 
await  the  other.  Therefore  —  take."  Mary  had  received 
the  cups.  "  Place  them  where  and  as  you  will ;  I  return 
speedily."  And  Morgiana  was  gone.  The  Greek  gazed 
on  the  magic  liquor  as  though  on  her  lover's  face.  Almost 


348  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

she  seemed  to  feel  herself  transformed,  transfigured ; 
clothed  with  wings  white  as  swans'  sails,  and  soaring  up- 
ward, upward  into  perfect  freedom.  She  saw  her  father, 
her  mother, — that  fair  angel  face  of  childish  years.  She 
thought  of  Richard  Longsword.  There  would  be  no  time 
for  her,  while  awaiting  the  golden  morning  when  her 
husband  could  look  upon  her  face  with  naught  to  dread. 
Did  thus  God  will  ?  She  had  set  the  cups  on  the  railing 
by  the  windows.  "  Come  back !  "  was  her  call  to  Morgiana. 
The  Arab  glided  straight  to  the  cups ;  took  one ;  lifted  to 
her  lips.  "  Let  Allah  have  pity  on  one  of  us  ! "  her  words. 
But  as  Mary's  hand  stretched  out  to  do  the  like,  she  gave 
a  mighty  cry.  Her  goblet  fell :  the  other  was  dashed  from 
Morgiana's  hand. 

"  Dear  God !  What  do  we  ? "  cried  the  Greek.  "  Spare 
me  this  temptation !  Nor  do  you  commit  this  wickedness. 
Never  shall  we  so  tempt  God.  Though  the  grief  be  a 
thousand  times  more  great,  yet  will  I  trust  His  mercy.  I 
am  a  Christian,  and  Our  Lord  did  not  hang  on  the  tree  in 
vain  to  make  us  strong  to  bear.  Death  would  be  sweet. 
But  had  we  God's  wisdom,  our  present  pangs  would  seem 
nothing,  hid  in  the  speeding  ages  of  joy.  Let  us,  each 
after  our  manner,  call  on  God  to  show  us  pity.  But  never 
shall  one  of  us  stand  before  His  face  unsummoned,  and  cry, 
'  I  am  too  weak  to  bear  what  Thou  appointest ! ' ' 

Morgiana's  face  flushed  livid ;  she  staggered  back. 

"  Then  let  Allah,  if  He  may,  have  mercy ;  our  need  is 
great!"  —  such  her  cry  from  twitching  lips.  But  as  the 
words  came,  Mary  saw  the  Arab's  eyes  set  in  a  glassy  stare ; 
the  lithe  form  fell  heavily.  Mary  caught  her  round  the 
waist,  and  laid  her  on  the  marble  floor  by  the  fountain ; 
then  dashed  water  in  her  face,  and  shouted  for  help. 

Help  came  —  the  under-eunuchs,  Hakem,  Zeyneb  ;  and 
finally  Iftikhar,  lordly  and  splendid,  in  a  suit  of  per- 
fectly plain  black  armor  with  two  white  hawks'  wings  nod- 
ding on  his  helmet,  spurred  and  girded  as  for  a  foray.  The 
eunuchs  brought  cordials,  strong  waters,  and  pungent  per- 
fumes. But  Iftikhar  first  knelt  by  Morgiana's  side,  drew 
forth  the  little  red  vial,  and  laid  the  magic,  fiery  drops  upon 


HOW   MORGIANA   PROFFERED   TWO   CUPS      349 

her  tongue.  The  Arab  shook  herself ;  her  form  relaxed  ; 
the  eyes  opened.  They  bore  her  into  a  room  leading  from 
the  aviary,  and  propped  her  on  the  divan  cushions.  Not 
till  then  did  Iftikhar  speak  a  word.  Now  one  gesture  sent 
all  save  the  two  women  and  Zeyneb  from  the  chamber, 
when  the  emir  broke  forth :  — 

"  In  the  name  of  Allah  Omnipotent,  what  means  this, 
Morgiana  ?  I  demand  it ;  speak  !  " 

And  the  Arab  answered  with  her  gaze  full  on  Iftikhar. 

"  Cid,  I  asked  Mary  the  Greek  to  drink  out  of  one  of  two 
goblets,  in  one  of  which  was  a  sleeping  potion  from  which 
the  sleeper  awakens  never.  She  refused,  saying  it  were 
better  to  endure  than  to  tempt  the  Most  High.  That  is  all." 

A  flash  of  terrible  rage  crossed  the  emir's  face.  "  Witch ! 
sorceress  !  Have  you  sought  to  make  the  Greek  take  her 
life  ?  As  the  Most  High  lives,  you  shall  be  impaled  !  " 

"  Peace,  master,"  said  Mary,  gently.  "  I  have  refused 
her  proffer.  Be  assured  I  will  find  strength  to  bear  until  I 
see  once  more  my  true  husband,  or  having  endured  your 
unholy  will,  in  God's  own  time  I  die." 

But  at  the  word  the  face  of  Iftikhar  was  blackened  with 
yet  deeper  fury.  "  Your  husband !  "  came  thickly.  "  Yes, 
master,"  answered  the  Greek;  "for,  living  or  dying,  Richard 
de  St.  Julien  is  my  true  husband." 

Iftikhar  cut  her  short :  "  Dying  ?     What  if  dead  ?  " 

A  frightful  suspicion  crossed  Mary's  mind.  It  was  her 
face  that  was  pallid  now.  But  Iftikhar  reassured  her  with 
a  forced  laugh :  "  Ya,  how  easy  to  tell  you,  '  Richard,  the 
Prankish  barbarian,  whose  sport  is  slaying  guileless  boys, 
has  gone  to  his  long  account  in  the  fighting  around  Antioch.' 
But  I  say  to  you,  he  lives,  and  I  go  to  Antioch  to  seek  his 
life." 

The  Greek  was  herself  once  more.  Very  steadily  she 
answered :  "  Master,  let  God  judge  Richard  de  St.  Julien 
for  slaying  Gilbert  de  Valmont,  since  Zeyneb  I  see  has 
learned  and  told  the  tale.  But  let  God  also  judge  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh,  who  is  mightier  with  the  dagger  of  his  under- 
lings than  with  his  own  sword,  and  who  finds  iron  lances 
as  light  in  his  hand  as  those  of  reed." 


350  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

The  words  of  the  Greek  were  slingstones  whirled  in  the 
emir's  face.  In  the  blindness  of  his  fury  he  sprang 
toward  her,  and  struck.  The  woman  tottered,  recovered; 
then  tore  back  the  muslin  from  her  neck  and  shoul- 
ders :  — 

"  Strike !  "  cried  she,  "  strike  again  !  Are  you  not 
master?  Are  you  not  lord  of  this  body  of  mine  you  so 
lust  after  ?  What  is  a  little  pain,  a  few  blows,  beside  what 
I  ever  bear !  " 

If  tikhar's  muscles  grew  tense  as  springing  steel  when  he 
reined  in  his  passion.  When  he  spoke,  his  voice  was  low 
and  husky:  "Woman,  you  drive  me  to  all  bounds.  You 
do  well  to  call  me  '  master.'  Truly  I  am,  as  you  shall 
own  with  sorrow,  if  not  with  joy.  But  two  evenings  past 
you  were  queen,  with  the  heir  of  Hassan  Sabah  your 
slave.  But  now  —  "  he  was  silent,  but  broke  forth  again 

—  "  my  pledge  to  you  is  at  an  end.     You  are  mine.     I 
will  break  your  will,  if  I  may  not  win  it.     You  still  hold 
the  face  of  Richard  Longs  word  dear?" 

"Yes,  by  every  saint! "  flashed  the  defiant  Greek. 

"  Hark,  then,"  was  the  laugh  of  hate ;  "  I  go  soon  to 
Antioch  in  company  with  the  great  host  Kerbogha  of 
Mosul  gathers  to  rescue  Yaghi-Sian  besieged  by  the  Chris- 
tians. I  go  second  in  command,  with  the  twelve  thousand 
'  devoted '  of  Syria,  to  whom  death  is  less  than  sleep,  who 
can  stanch  thirst  with  the  vapor  from  the  sunburned 
sand,  whose  steeds  find  food  sniffing  the  desert  blast. 
We  will  gird  round  the  Franks  tight  as  a  ring  girds 
the  finger.  I  know  the  bull  valor  of  your  Christians.  But 
they  shall  die  as  die  the  flies,  or  fall  one  and  all  our  prey 

—  prisoners.     And  Richard  Longsword  —  " 

"  Look  him  fairly  in  the  face  —  as  at  Dorylaeum  !  "  cried 
the  Greek,  in  hot  scorn.  "  As  at  Dorylseum  !  " 

"And  Richard  Longsword,"  continued  Iftikhar,  still 
steadily,  "  as  surely  as  the  sun  moves  from  east  to  west,  I 
will  slay  in  battle,  or,  taking  alive,  you  shall  see  him  my 
captive.  Yes ;  by  the  brightness  of  Allah !  When  I  go 
to  Antioch,  you  go  also ;  with  your  own  eyes  you  shall  see 
the  fate  of  those  Franks  you  love.  You  shall  see  Richard 


HOW   MORGIANA   PROFFERED  TWO  CUPS     351 

borne  asunder  on  the  cimeters  of  the  'devoted'  or  haled 
fettered  before  me." 

He  paused,  expecting  an  outburst.  None !  The  Greek 
was  standing  proudly,  her  head  poised  high,  eyes  very 
bright. 

"And  at  the  end  you  shall  indeed  touch  the  head  of 
your  Richard.  The  head, — for  you  shall  hear  the  crier 
traverse  the  city,  proclaiming,  '  He  who  would  amuse  him- 
self, come  to  the  great  square, — the  body  of  Richard  the 
Frank  is  exposed  to  the  dogs ! ' ' 

Mary  took  two  steps  toward  the  Ismaelian ;  her  voice 
was  low ;  she  was  pale,  but  did  not  tremble. 

"  Lord  Iftikhar,  if  God  suffered  and  you  jplaced  even 
now  the  head  of  Richard  Longsword  in  my  arms,  rest 
assured  I  would  kiss  it  with  never  so  much  love.  For  I 
would  know  a  brave  and  noble  spirit  waited  on  high  till  it 
were  granted  me  to  stand  at  his  side,  all  his  sins  washed 
white  by  God's  mercy.  But,  my  Cid,  better  to  think  of 
bearding  the  lion  than  of  celebrating  the  hunting.  For, 
hear  my  word ;  go  to  Antioch,  you,  the  '  devoted,'  the 
hordes  of  Kerbogha,  —  go  all,  and  meet  there  men  with  a 
love  for  God  in  their  hearts,  a  heaven-sped  strength  in 
their  good  arms.  Not  with  dagger  and  stealth  shall  you 
meet;  but  man  to  man,  breast  to  breast,  sword  to  sword, — 
and  Christ  shall  conquer !  " 

"  Silence  !  "  tossed  out  the  emir,  losing  self-control. 

"  Well  you  cry  '  silence ' !  First  silence  your  own  dark 
soul  —  silence  reproach  for  blood  spilled  wantonly,  for  tears 
your  deeds  have  made  to  flow.  At  heart  you  Ismaelians 
believe  in  no  God  !  Believe  then  in  devils ;  tremble  !  For 
many  await  you !  And  this  you  shall  find  :  men  can  die 
for  Christ  no  less  than  for  Allah !  Aye,  and  can  live  for 
Christ ;  by  His  strength,  make  you  Moslems  die !  As 
for  me  I  shall  not  die  ;  in  some  strange  way,  by  some 
strange  voice,  1  am  warned  God  will  save  me  utterly  ;  and 
I  shall  see  you  blasted,  stricken,  accursed  —  and  that  were 
joy  of  joys !  " 

Mary's  voice  had  risen  higher,  fiercer ;  her  hands  out- 
stretched in  imprecation.  Before  the  wild  gust  of  her  pas- 


352  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

sion  Iftikhar  had  shrunk  back  like  a  timid  beast.  For  a 
moment  the  Greek  was  master,  queen  as  never  before. 
Then  sudden  as  the  flame  had  flashed,  it  died.  Mary  stood 
with  drooping  head,  silent,  statue-like. 

"Away!  From  my  sight !"  commanded  Iftikhar.  His 
captive  did  not  move.  Hakem  had  reentered. 

"Take  her  away,"  cried  his  master;  "keep  her  close,— 
let  her  lack  nothing ;  but  as  Allah  lives,  her  will  shall  bow. 
Let  her  go  to  Antioch  when  I  go ;  but  I  will  not  see  her 
face  again  until  I  can  show  her  Richard  Longsword  dead 
or  my  captive.     And  now  —  begone  !  " 

Mary  followed  the  eunuch  with  never  a  word.  But 
Morgiana,  silent  long,  broke  forth  :  — 

"  Cid  —  seek  no  more  blood  in  private  quarrel.  Keep 
the  Greek.  I  do  not  pray  for  her  or  for  me.  But  for  your 
own  sake  —  for  you  who  are  still  the  light  of  my  soul, 
despite  all  the  wrongs  —  do  not  go  to  Antioch.  Ruin 
awaits  you  there.  Even  the  '  devoted '  shall  fail.  True 
is  Citt  Mary's  warning.  Allah  will  fight  with  the  Chris- 
tians. Leave  Kerbogha  to  the  decree  of  doom ;  leave  to 
doom  Richard  Longsword.  I  have  said  it  —  ruin,  woe 
awaits  at  Antioch.  I  have  said  it,  and  my  warnings  never 
fail!" 

Iftikhar  swore  a  great  oath. 

"  Then  by  Allah  that  liveth  and  reigneth  ever,  they  shall 
fail  now !  Let  doom  decree  what  it  will,  to  Antioch  I  go, 
and  to  Gehenna  speeds  Richard  Longsword  !  " 

He  turned  on  his  heel,  while  she  made  no  reply. 

"Zeyneb,"  quoth  he  to  the  ever  ready  dwarf,  "in  your 
head  are  hid  half  my  wits.  You  are  a  faithful  servant. 
In  my  cause  you  would  outwit  Eblees'  self.  I  declare,  by 
the  great  name  of  Allah  said  thrice,  when  they  proclaim 
Iftikhar  the  kalif,  they  shall  proclaim  Zeyneb  the  vizier." 

The  dwarf  wagged  his  ears  after  his  wont,  to  show  how 
highly  he  prized  such  praise. 

"  In  a  few  days,"  continued  the  grand  prior,  "  I  go  to 
join  Kerbogha.  You  know  all  my  plans,  my  secrets.  While 
at  Antioch  there  may  come  to  El  Halebah  from  Alamont 
and  our  other  strongholds  messages  needing  instant  de- 


HOW   MORGIANA   PROFFERED   TWO   CUPS     353 

spatch.  You  must  answer.  I  give  you  this  signet:  seal 
them  in  Hassan  Sabah's  own  name." 

Iftikhar  drew  from  his  bosom  a  tiny  silk  bag,  and  took 
forth  a  ring  set  with  a  single  emerald,  worth  an  emir's 
treasure  house. 

"  The  ring  of  Hassan  Sabah !  "  exclaimed  the  dwarf. 

"  Mashallah !  is  it  not  a  talisman?"  came  the  reply. 
"  Graven  with  the  sign  of  the  '  dirk  and  the  cord,'  no 
Ismaelian  dare  refuse  anything  commanded  by  the  bearer, 
whosoever  he  be,  under  pain  of  forfeit  of  the  pearl-walled 
pavilion  of  Paradise.  Even  the  bidding  of  a  grand  prior, 
except  he  be  present  in  person  to  order  otherwise,  is  over- 
ridden by  a  fisherman  wearing  this  ring.  Therefore  guard 
as  the  apple  of  your  eye.  Place  it  in  the  'strong  box 
where  I  keep  my  gems  ;  only  wear  the  key  about  your 
neck." 

The  dwarf  knelt  and  kissed  his  master's  robe. 

"  Cid,  you  overwhelm  me  with  your  confidence !  How 
may  I  requite  ?  " 

Iftikhar  only  laughed  carelessly ;  the  dwarf's  eye  roved 
round  the  room. 

"  Morgiana  has  seen  and  heard,"  suddenly  he  whis- 
pered. 

The  grand  prior's  answer  was  a  second  laugh.  Then 
he  added :  "  Morgiana  ?  She  would  shed  half  her  blood 
before  twittering  such  a  secret.  Smell  out  greater  dangers, 
my  Zeyneb !  " 


2A 


CHAPTER   XXXIII 

HOW    EYBEK    TURNED    GRAY 

"  AND  how  is  it  with  the  Star  of  the  Greeks  ?  "  repeated 
Musa,  while  Richard  Longsword's  face  grew  gnarled  as  a 
mountain  oak.  At  the  Norman's  silence,  the  Arab  also 
became  grave  as  death,  and  in  a  whisper  that  scarce  left 
his  throat,  he  asked  :  — 

"  As  you  are  my  friend,  tell  me,  was  it  in  the  mountains 
where  they  say  you  suffered  so  from  thirst  ?  or  in  the  camp 
where  was  the  plague  and  fever? " 

Richard  shook  his  head ;  then  at  last  came  the  words:  — 

"  She  lives  —  at  least  I  fear  so  !  " 

"  Allah  the  Compassionate !  "  was  the  Spaniard's  cry, 
"  you  '  fear '  she  lives  ? " 

The  Norman's  casqued  head  was  bent  upon  the  shaggy 
mane  of  Rollo ;  he  groaned  in  his  agony  :  — 

"  Mother  of  Christ,  pity  me,  if  I  be  not  beyond  all  pity ! 
In  the  great  battle  at  Dorylseum,  of  which  you  must  have 
heard,  our  camp  was  stormed.  I  was  away  summoning 
help  from  Duke  Godfrey.  Before  the  Turks  were  driven 
out,  they  made  prisoners." 

"Prisoners!  Allah  pity  us  indeed!"  Musa  rocked  in 
his  saddle,  and  pressed  his  hands  to  his  head.  But  Richard 
drove  straight  forward,  having  begun  his  tale.  "  I  con- 
tinued in  the  chase  of  the  Seljouks.  My  horse  ran  ahead 
of  the  rest.  I  saw  a  squadron  of  riders  clothed  in  white, 
not  Turks,  but  Arabs.  I  saw  that  the  leader  of  the  band 
was  holding  a  woman  before  him  on  his  saddle.  I  was 
almost  measuring  swords  with  him,  when  my  horse  failed. 
I  returned  to  camp  torn  with  forebodings,  and  found  — 

354 


HOW   EYBEK  TURNED   GRAY  355 

But  here  he  stopped,  even  he  startled  at  the  agony  writ-  A 
ten  on  the  Andalusian's  face. 

"  Tell  it  all,  dear  brother,"  said  Musa,  raising  his  head 
by  a  mighty  effort. 

"  I  found  that  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  and  a  band  of  his  in- 
famous Ismaelians  had  led  the  storming  of  the  camps.  He 
had  carried  Mary  away  in  his  flight ;  and  at  this  moment  she 
is  in  his  harem,  —  his  slave,  till  God  may  have  pity  on  her 
innocency  and  let  her  die."  Then  Richard  told  Musa  why 
he  had  pursued  Hossein,  and  the  Spaniard  called  on  his 
men  to  join  in  the  chase  of  the  fugitive,  who  had  not  taken 
refuge  among  them,  but  had  flown  on  as  swift  as  his  steed 
could  carry.  But  the  Ismaelian  seemed  to,  have  bidden 
the  earth  open,  and  it  had  swallowed  him.  So  after  futile 
search  the  whole  party  turned  toward  Antioch  ;  and  Musa 
explained  that  he  came  against  the  Christians  with  no 
hostile  intent,  but  as  commander  of  the  armed  escort  of 
the  embassy  the  Egyptian  Kalif  Mustaali  was  sending  the 
Crusaders.  For  the  Egyptians,  as  Musa  explained,  had 
little  love  for  the  Turks,  since  the  Turks  were  the  foes  of 
Ali,  successor  of  the  Prophet,  whom  the  Egyptians  ven- 
erated. Moreover,  twenty  years  before,  the  Seljouks  had 
plundered  to  the  very  gates  of  Cairo.  And  now  that 
Mustaali  had  conquered  Jerusalem  and  Palestine  from  the 
Turks,  he  would  be  glad  to  strike  hands  with  the  Chris- 
tians, and  grant  them  free  access  to  the  Holy  City,  if  only 
it  could  remain  in  his  hands.  Therefore  he  had  sent  a 
pompous  embassy  of  fifteen  deputies  to  proffer  the  Cru- 
saders honorable  peace  or  deadly  war.  "And  do  you 
imagine,  O  brother,"  said  Richard,  when  he  had  heard  this, 
and  they  were  riding  on  together,  "that  we  Franks  will 
have  anything  less  than  the  complete  mastery  of  the  Holy 
City,  or  be  turned  back  by  the  threats  of  your  kalif  ? " 

"Allah  is  all-knowing,"  was  the  gloomy  reply.  "I  fore- 
warned the  Vizier  Afdhal  that  nothing  would  come  of  this ; 
for  have  I  not  seen  your  France  with  my  own  eyes  ?  But 
I  can  only  obey.  The  smooth  speeches  I  leave  to  the 
deputies."  Then,  with  a  quick  turn  :  "  As  Allah  lives,  I  can 
think  of  nothing  but  of  what  you  have  told  me.  Mary 


356  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Kurkuas  the  slave  of  If tikhar,  —  of  If tikhar !  O  Allah,  if 
indeed  Thou  art  omnipotent  and  merciful,  why  may  such 
things  be  ? " 

"  Peace,  sweet  brother,"  said  the  Christian,  gently.  "  I 
am  trying  to  learn  to  bow  to  the  will  of  God.  Do  not 
make  my  task  harder.  Mary  Kurkuas  was  my  wife ;  but 
what  was  she  to  you?" 

"  What  to  me  ? "  The  words  came  across  Musa's 
white  teeth  so  quickly  that  he  had  spoken  ere  he  could 
set  bridle  to  his  tongue.  Then  slowly,  with  a  soft  rhythm 
and  melody  attuned  so  well  by  his  rich  voice,  he  answered  : 
"  What  to  me  ?  Shall  I  say  it  again ;  are  you  not  my 
brother,  is  not  Mary  the  Greek  my  sister  ?  Are  not  your 
joys  my  joys;  your  sorrows — what  sorrows  are  they 
not !  —  mine  ?  Allah  pity  me ;  my  heart  is  sad,  sad. 
And  what  have  you  done  to  seek  for  her  ? "  So  Rich- 
ard told  as  well  as  he  might  of  his  questionings  of  the 
prisoners,  and  of  the  report  that  If  tikhar  had  gone  to 
Persia,  to  Alamont  the  trysting-place  of  the  Ismaelians. 
But  Musa  shook  his  head  at  this. 

"  Either  the  man  spoke  false  or  was  ignorant.  I  am 
close  to  the  gossip  of  the  court  at  Cairo.  Iftikhar  is  in 
Syria.  He  keeps  still,  lest  he  rouse  Barkyarok ;  but  I  think 
report  had  it  he  was  dealing  with  Redouan  of  Aleppo." 

"  Aleppo  ?  "  repeated  Richard.  "  I  rode  close  to  the 
city.  But  it  is  impossible  to  gain  news.  War  blocks  all 
roads.  These  Syrians  will  lie,  though  there  be  a  dagger  at 
their  throats.  Had  we  but  captured  Hossein  —  " 

"  Forgive  that  my  coming  made  him  escape  you,"  broke 
in  the  Spaniard. 

"  Forgive  ? "  continued  the  Norman ;  "  what  have  I  to 
forgive  touching  you,  my  brother?  Perhaps  even  Hossein 
could  have  told  nothing;  but  vengeance  is  sweet." 

"  Wallah,  and  it  shall  not  be  small !  "  swore  Musa. 

So  the  company  rode  back  to  the  camp  of  the  Christians  ; 
and  Richard's  men  were  astonished  to  meet  their  chief 
trotting  side  by  side  with  an  unbeliever.  But  he  reassured 
them,  and  brought  the  embassy  with  all  courtesy  before 
Duke  Godfrey,  who  entreated  the  Egyptians  very  honor- 


HOW   EYBEK  TURNED   GRAY  357 

ably.  Richard,  however,  took  Musa  to  his  own  tent, 
and  the  two  spent  together  an  evening  long  and  sweet. 
Richard  told  of  the  fighting  around  Nicaea,  of  Dorylaeum, 
the  desert  march,  the  unfruitful  siege ;  and  Musa  told  a 
story  of  a  campaign  in  Nubia  against  negro  nomads,  and 
showed  the  gem-hilted  cimeter  that  the  Fatimite  kalif  had 
himself  bestowed  when  the  Spaniard  returned  to  Cairo 
victorious.  "And  I  had  another  reward  offered  me,"  con- 
tinued Musa,  smiling.  "  The  kalif  said  to  me  :  '  Cid  Musa, 
you  are  a  gallant  emir.  As  Allah  lives  you  shall  be  my 
son-in-law ;  you  shall  have  the  hand  of  Laila  my  daughter; 
whose  beauty  is  as  a  fountain  bursting  under  palms.' ' 

"  So  you  are  wedded  at  last,"  cried  the  Norman,  and  he 
held  up  his  wine-cup.  "  To  Laila,  wife  of  the  great  Emir 
Musa,  son  of  Abdallah  !  "  was  his  cry.  But  the  Spaniard 
checked  him  with  a  laugh.  "No,  I  put  the  offer  by,  though 
it  was  not  easy  to  refuse  such  a  gift  and  yet  save  my  head." 

"St.  Maurice,  you  refused  !  " 

"  I  did ;  a  sly  eunuch  let  me  see  the  princess  unveiled. 
To  some  men  she  is  beautiful :  eyes  that  need  no  kohl  to 
deepen,  feet  too  small  for  silken  slippers,  her  smile  that 
of  a  lotus-bloom  under  the  sun,  —  but  she  was  not  for  me." 

"  Foolish  !  "  cried  the  Christian,  "  you  sing  love  ditties 
ever,  but  bear  love  for  none." 

"  I  am  yet  young.  Wait,  —  in  the  book  of  doom  what  is 
written  is  written.  Leave  me  in  peace!"  was  the  laughing 
answer.  But  neither  Norman  nor  Spaniard  laughed  in 
heart  when  they  lay  down  to  sleep  that  night.  Richard 
knew  that  Musa  had  made  a  great  vow ;  he  could  nigh 
guess  its  tenor,  though  the  .Moslem  kept  his  counsel  well. 

The  Egyptian  envoys  came  on  a  barren  embassy ;  infi- 
dels were  infidels  to  the  Franks,  came  they  from  Bagdad 
or  Cairo.  When  the  ambassadors  hinted  that  the  Crusad- 
ers would  be  welcome  at  the  Holy  City  if  they  would  only 
enter  unarmed,  the  answer  was  fiery :  "  Tell  the  kalif  that 
we  do  not  fear  all  the  power  of  Asia  or  of  Egypt.  Chris- 
tians alone  shall  guard  Jerusalem."  So  the  envoys  pre- 
pared to  journey  homeward.  The  Franks  were  to  send 
with  them  a  counter-embassy,  proposing  peace  if  Jerusalem 


358  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

were  surrendered ;  but  few  expected  any  good  to  come  of 
the  mission.  Vet,  despite  the  brave  words,  it  was  a  gloomy 
council  of  the  chiefs  that  met  in  Duke  Godfrey's  tent  the 
night  after  they  had  rejected  the  Egyptian  terms.  Tancred 
was  not  there,  nor  Richard  Longsword.  Godfrey's  face 
was  careworn  as  he  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  on  his 
left  Raymond,  on  his  right  Bohemond. 

"  Dear  brothers,"  he  pleaded,  after  a  long  and  bitter 
debate,  "  we  do  not  fight,  I  remind  you,  for  gold  or  glory. 
Therefore  do  you,  my  Lord  Raymond,  recall  your  bitter 
words  against  Bohemond  —  Christ  is  ill  served  by  His 
servants' wranglings."  But  Raymond  answered  haughtily : 
"Fair  Duke,  I,  too,  love  Our  Lord.  But  now  the  Prince 
of  Tarentum  comes  demanding  that  whosoever  shall  take 
Antioch  shall  be  lord  of  the  city.  I  sniff  his  meaning  well. 
His  intrigue  with  Phirous  the  Armenian  who  wishes  to 
betray  the  city  is  well  known.  Would  God  we  had  An- 
tioch !  But  I  will  not  sit  by  and  see  one  man  gather  all 
the  fruits  of  our  toil  when  we  have  labored  together  as 
brothers,  and  poured  out  blood  and  treasure ;  will  not  see 
the  spoils  all  go  to  one  who  hopes  to  prosper  by  base 
artifice  or  womanish  stratagem." 

Bohemond  had  bounded  to  his  feet. 

"  Yes,  Count  of  Toulouse,  you  do  well  to  say  Phirous  the 
Armenian  will  betray  Antioch  at  my  bidding,  and  at  none 
other.  Have  I  put  nothing  at  risk  in  this  Crusade  ?  Have 
I  not  played  my  part  at  Nicaea,  Dorylaeum,  the  battles 
around  the  city  ?  If  you  have  a  better  device  for  reducing 
Yaghi-Sian,  make  use,  and  win  Antioch  yourself !  They 
tell  that  the  lord  of  Mosul,  the  great  Kerbogha,  is  not 
many  days'  march  away,  with  two  hundred  thousand  men, 
swept  from  all  Mesopotamia  and  Persia.  Will  his  coming 
make  our  task  easier  ?  Time  presses  ;  to-morrow  ?  Too 
late,  perhaps.  Promise  me  that  if  I  win  Antioch  I  shall 
become  its  lord,  and  Phirous  is  ready  to  yield  three  towers 
into  our  hands." 

A  deep  growl  was  coming  from  the  other  chiefs. 

"  By  Our  Lady  of  Paris  and  St.  Denis,"  swore  Count 
Hugh  of  the  French  blood-royal,  angrily,  "this  Prince  of 


HOW  EYBEK  TURNED   GRAY  359 

Tarentum  shall  not  beard  us  thus.  Let  half  the  army 
watch  Antioch,  the  rest  go  against  Kerbogha.  God  will- 
ing, we  can  crush  both." 

But  good  Bishop  Adhemar  interposed. 

"  To  do  so  were  to  betray  the  cause  of  God.  The  host 
is  weakened  by  war  and  famine.  One-half  will  never  suf- 
fice to  confront  Kerbogha;  only  the  saints  will  give  the 
whole  the  victory.  We  cannot  raise  the  siege,  nor  endure 
attack  from  Kerbogha  in  our  camp.  Let  us  not  blame  the 
Lord  Bohemond.  With  God's  will  every  prince  and  baron 
shall  win  a  fair  lordship  in  this  Syria ;  there  is  room  for 
all." 

Silence  lasted  a  moment ;  then  in  turn  Robert  the  Nor- 
man cried,  "  By  the  splendor  of  God,  my  Lord  Bohemond, 
think  well  if  this  Phirous  has  not  deceived  you  ! " 

"  He  has  not !  "  attested  the  southern  Norman,  hotly. 

"  Good  !  "  retorted  Robert,  "  he  has  taken  your  money 
and  spoken  you  fair.  So  ?  You  cannot  deny.  Neverthe- 
less, fair  princes,  I  have  a  man  here  with  a  tale  to  tell." 

A  dozen  voices  cried:  "Whatman?  What  tale?  Bring 
him  in !  " 

Two  squires  of  the  Norman  Duke  led  in  an  Arab,  mus- 
cular, bright-eyed,  decently  habited.  Robert  explained 
that  this  man  had  come  to  him,  professing  to  be  a  native 
Christian,  well  disposed  to  the  Crusaders,  and  to  have  just 
escaped  from  the  city.  Through  the  interpreter  he  gave 
his  name  as  Eybek,  and  answered  all  the  questions  flung 
at  him  with  marvellous  readiness  and  consistency.  "  Yes, 
he  had  ready  access  to  the  circle  of  Yaghi-Sian,  and  knew 
that  the  city  was  capable  of  making  a  very  long  defence. 
The  emir  was  looking  for  help  in  a  very  few  days.  If  the 
Christians  did  not  raise  the  siege  at  once  and  march  away, 
it  would  need  a  miracle  from  St.  George  and  St.  Demetrius 
to  save  them  from  the  myriads  of  Kerbogha."  Only  once, 
when  the  fellow  raised  his  head  —  for  he  had  a  manner  of 
holding  it  down  —  Bohemond  muttered  to  Godfrey  :  — 

"Fair  Duke,  I  know  not  when,  yet  once — I  swear  it  by 
the  thumb-bone  of  St.  Anthony  in  my  hilt  —  I  have  seen 
his  face  before."  But  the  Duke  replied:  — 


360  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  How  before,  my  lord  ?  Not  on  the  Crusade,  surely. 
Perhaps  among  the  Arabs  of  Sicily." 

Bohemond  shook  his  head.  "  Not  there."  And  the  ex- 
amination of  Eybek  went  on. 

Then  the  Christian  chiefs  pressed  him  closer,  and  Hugh 
of  Vermandois  demanded  :  "  But  what  of  Phirous  ?  For 
the  Prince  of  Tarentum  tells  us  this  Armenian  is  high  in 
the  favor  of  Yaghi-Sian,  that  he  is  a  Christian  at  heart,  hav- 
ing be,en  a  renegade,  and  anxious  to  return  to  the  only  true 
faith." 

"  Noble  lord,"  replied  the  Oriental,  through  the  inter- 
preter, "  if  the  Emir  Bohemond  believes  the  tales  told  him 
by  Phirous,  he  is  less  wise  than  I  deemed  him.  Phirous  is 
in  the  confidence  of  Yaghi-Sian  day  and  night." 

"Ha!"  interposed  Duke  Godfrey,  dropping  his  jaw, 
and  Bohemond's  sly  face  flushed  with  wrath  and  incre- 
dulity. 

"  Is  it  not  as  I  said,  fair  lords  ? "  cried  Robert  of  Nor- 
mandy, bringing  his  fist  down  upon  the  long  oaken  table 
before  him.  "  What  has  the  Prince  of  Tarentum  been  try- 
ing to  lead  toward,  save  shame  and  disaster  ? " 

"  Insolent ! "  roared  Bohemond,  on  his  feet,  with  his 
sword  half  drawn ;  "you  shall  answer  to  me  for  this,  son  of 
the  Bastard ! " 

Then  the  Norman  Duke's  blade  started  also.  But  above 
his  angry  shout  rang  the  cry  of  Bishop  Adhemar. 

"  In  the  name  of  Christ,  sweet  sons,  keep  peace  !  Sheathe 
your  swords  !  You,  Prince  of  Tarentum,  rejoice  if  we  learn 
the  deceit  of  Phirous  in  time.  You,  Robert  of  Normandy, 
do  not  triumph  ;  for  Bohemond  has  only  sought  to  advance 
the  victory  of  Our  Lord !  " 

"  Fair  lords,"  commanded  Godfrey,  sternly,  "  let  us  save 
our  swords  for  the  unbelievers,  and  be  quiet  while  we 
hearken  to  this  Arabian.  In  truth  he  appears  a  pious  and 
loyal  man." 

Then  all  kept  silence  while  Eybek  continued  to  explain 
that  Phirous  had  been  all  the  time  in  the  counsels  of  the 
emir,  that  there  was  a  plot  to  induce  the  Christian  chiefs 
to  adventure  themselves  inside  the  walls  by  pretending  to 


HOW   EYBEK  TURNED   GRAY  361 

betray  a  tower.  Once  inside,  an  ambush  was  to  break  out, 
and  the  flower  of  the  Christians  would  be  destroyed. 

Bohemond  raged,  and  stormed,  and  tried  to  browbeat 
the  fellow  into  contradictions.  The  Prince  spoke  Arabic 
and  needed  no  interpreter ;  but  the  other  clung  to  his  tale 
unshaken.  Only  men  noticed  that  he  hung  down  his  head, 
as  if  afraid  to  let  the  red  glare  of  the  cressets  fall  fairly  on 
his  face,  and  that  when  there  was  a  stir  among  the  lesser 
chieftains  as  a  certain  newcomer  took  his  seat  at  the  foot 
of  the  table  he  averted  his  gaze  yet  more.  Presently, 
baffled  and  willing  to  own  his  hopes  blasted,  the  Tarentine 
turned  away. 

"  St.  Michael  blot  out  that  Armenian !  He  has  taken 
my  gold  and  deceived  me.  This  Arab's  story  clings  to- 
gether too  well  not  to  be  true."  And  the  Prince  started 
to  leave  the  tent  with  a  sullen  countenance,  for  he  had 
come  to  the  council  with  swelling  hopes. 

"The  finger  of  God  is  manifest  in  this,"  commented 
Godfrey,  piously.  "  Had  not  Duke  Robert  brought  this 
man  before  us  we  would  all,  with  Bohemond,  have  stepped 
into  the  pit  dug  by  our  enemies." 

"Verily,"  cried  Adhemar,  "this  Eybek  is  a  true  friend 
of  Christ;  his  reward  shall  not  fail  him." 

The  Arab  bowed  low  before  the  bishop  and  Bouillon, 
and  muttered  some  flowery  compliments  in  his  own  tongue. 

"  Lead  him  away,"  commanded  Duke  Robert  to  his 
squires.  "  In  the  morning  we  will  question  further."  As 
they  obeyed,  one  took  a  torch  from  its  socket  on  the  tent- 
pole,  and,  holding  it  high,  the  ruddy  light  fell  full  on  the 
face  of  the  Arabian.  An  instant  only,  but  with  that 
instant  came  a  cry,  a  shout. 

"  Hossein  !  "  and  Richard  Longsword  had  bounded  from 
his  seat  as  if  an  arrow  dashed  from  a  crossbow.  One 
snatch  and  the  torch  was  in  his  hand,  held  close  under  the 
Arab's  face.  The  luckless  man  writhed  in  a  clutch  firm 
as  steel.'  Richard  held  up  the  light  so  that  every  feature 
of  his  victim  lay  revealed.  "  The  man  !  "  And  at  the 
exclamation,  and  sight  of  the  iron  mood  written  on  Long- 
sword's  face,  Eybek's  bronzed  face  turned  ashen  pale. 


362  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

There  was  silence  in  the  council  tent  for  one  long  minute. 
Then  Richard  was  speaking  very  calmly  :  — 

"  Fair  lords,  we  are  all  deceived.  This  man  is  no  Chris- 
tian escaped  from  Antioch.  What  he  is,  those  who  know 
the  manner  of  the  captivity  of  Mary  de  St.  Julien,  my 
dear  wife,  can  tell.  On  the  day  of  the  coming  of  the 
Egyptian  embassy  he  was  in  company  with  a  band  of 
infidel  horsemen  that  I  dispersed.  The  tale  he  has  told 
you  touching  Phirous  is  doubtless  a  lie,  to  cast  discredit  on 
the  Armenian,  and  bring  his  scheme  to  naught,  if  Yaghi- 
Sian  has  not  been  warned  by  him  already."  At  Long- 
sword's  words  a  howl  of  wrath  went  round  the  council 
table. 

"Traitor!  Dog  of  Hell!"  Duke  Robert  was  threaten- 
ing ;  "  he  shall  know  what  it  is  to  play  false  with  the  heir 
of  William  the  Norman !  " 

"  Te  Deum  laudemus  !  "  Bishop  Adhemar  was  muttering. 
"  Verily  we  were  all  deceived  in  him,  as  we  believed  our- 
selves deceived  in  Phirous ;  yet  God  has  brought  the  coun- 
sels of  the  crafty  to  naught ;  they  have  fallen  in  the  pit 
they  had  digged  for  others  !  " 

And  Duke  Godfrey  added  :  "  The  Prince  of  Tarentum 
will  thank  you  for  this,  De  St.  Julien.  Let  this  accursed 
Arabian  be  led  away  and  fettered." 

But  Richard  held  his  prey  fast.  "  Fair  lords,  this  is  the 
boon  I  crave :  give  me  the  life  or  death  of  this  fellow.  By 
Our  Lady  I  swear  he  shall  not  find  either  road  an  easy  one." 

Then  twenty  voices  chorussed,  "  Yes  !  yes  !  away  with 
him !  "  So  Richard  led,  or  rather  dragged  out  his  victim. 
Eybek  struggled  once  while  they  traversed  the  long  tent- 
avenues  of  the  sleeping  camp,  —  and  only  once ;  for  he 
found  that  in  Longsword's  hands  he  was  weaker  than  a 
roe  in  the  paws  of  a  lion.  The  Norman  did  not  speak  to 
the  captive,  or  to  any  in  his  train,  until  outside  his  own 
tents.  The  ever  watchful  Herbert,  standing  sentry,  hailed 
him. 

"  Does  Musa  sleep  ?  "  was  all  Richard  said.  And  in  a 
moment  the  Spaniard  had  glided  from  the  tent,  and  was 
crouching  by  the  smouldering  camp-fire. 


HOW   EYBEK  TURNED   GRAY  363 

"  Ever  awake  ?  "  asked  Longsword,  wondering  ;  and  the 
reply  was,  "Allah  will  not  grant  sleep  when  I  think  of  — 
But  here  the  Andalusian's  ready  tongue  failed. 

"  Look !  "  Richard  drew  the  captive  down  by  the  red 
coals,  and  whispered  his  name.  Then  Herbert  gave  a 
great  shout,  which  brought  Sebastian,  Theroulde,  De  Car- 
nac,  and  more  from  their  tents,  and  they  lit  many  torches. 

Now  what  befell  Eybek  that  night  we  need  not  tell.  For 
the  ways  of  Herbert  and  De  Carnac  were  not  those  of  soft 
ladies,  who  embroider  tapestry  all  day  in  a  rose  bower; 
and  the  Ismaelian  was  no  sleek  serving-page,  who  cried  out 
when  the  first  thorn  bush  pricked  him.  But  before  Richard 
Longsword  lay  down  that  night  he  had  heard^  somewhat  of 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  and  of  another  more  important  than 
Iftikhar,  which  made  his  sleep  the  lighter.  At  dawn  he 
\vas  outside  Godfrey's  tent  awaiting  speech  with  the  good 
Duke.  When  Bouillon  heard  what  he  was  seeking,  the 
Norman  was  instantly  admitted;  and  Godfrey  marvelled 
and  rejoiced  at  sight  of  the  fire  and  gladness  that  shone  in 
Longsword's  eyes. 

"  Well  met,  and  ever  welcome,  fair  Baron,"  was  the 
Lorrainer's  greeting ;  "  and  will  you  ride  to-day  with  your 
men  toward  Urdeh,  and  southward  to  see  if  you  may  sweep 
in  a  few  droves  of  beeves  and  a  corn  convoy  ? " 

"  My  Lord  Duke,"  quoth  Richard,  curtly,  "  I  cannot  ride 
to  Urdeh  to-day  or  to-morrow." 

The  Lorrainer  gave  him  a  shrewd  glance. 

"Fair  son,"  said  he,  half  affectionately,  "you  have  been 
dreaming  on  what  that  captive  spy  threw  out.  Do  not 
deny." 

"  I  do  not  deny,  my  lord.  And  now  I  come  to  ask  you 
this :  Will  the  cause  of  Christ  suffer  great  hurt  if  I  ride  on 
no  more  forays  for  the  week  to  come,  or  for  the  next,  or, 
if  God  so  will,"  —  he  spoke  steadily,  —  "  or  never  ? " 

The  Duke's  gaze  was  more  penetrating  than  before. 

"  Beware,  De  St.  Julien  ;  you  ride  to  death  if  you  trust 
the  word  of  that  Eybek,  even  under  torture.  We  only 
know  of  him  this  —  the  Father  of  Lies  is  no  smoother 
perjurer." 


364  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Richard  answered  with  a  laugh  :  — 

"  Eybek  has  said  to  me  thrice,  '  Cid,  as  Allah  lives,  I 
swear  I  warn  you  truly,  —  strike  off  my  head  or  torture  as 
you  will,  —  know  this  :  you  ride  to  death  when  you  ride 
to  Aleppo.'  " 

"To  Aleppo?"  demanded  Godfrey. 

"At  Aleppo  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  holds  Mary  Kurkuas 
prisoner,  and  I  go  to  Aleppo  to  seek  my  wife,"  was  Long- 
sword's  half-defiant  reply. 

"  Madman  !  "  The  Duke  struck  his  heavy  scabbard  on 
the  ground  to  double  his  emphasis. 

"  'Mad'  only  as  I  set  the  love  and  joy  of  one  of  God's 
pure  saints  before  peril  that  no  cavalier,  who  is  true  to  his 
knightly  vows,  could  have  right  to  shun." 

"  How  will  you  go  ?  Antioch  resists.  We  can  detach 
no  large  force.  Your  own  St.  Julieners  can  do  nothing." 

"  My  lord,"  said  Richard,  steadily,  "  I  shall  go  alone, 
save  for  one  comrade  —  my  brother,  Musa  the  Egyptian 
emir, — who  will  fail  me  when  God  Himself  loves  evil. 
He  is  Moslem,  but  I  would  sooner  have  him  at  my  side  than 
any  Christian  cavalier  from  Scotland  to  Sicily;  for  what 
>  human  craft  and  wit  and  strength  can  do,  that  can  he." 

The  Duke,  leaning  heavily  upon  his  sword,  a  smile 
half  sad,  half  merry,  upon  his  face,  slowly  replied : 
"You  are  both  very  young;  God  loves  such  —  whatso- 
ever their  faith!  You  are  right,  De  St.  Julien  —  you  must 
go.  I  will  ask  Bishop  Adhemar  to  pray  for  your  safe 
return." 

So  Richard  returned  to  his  tents  and  made  the  last  prep- 
arations, said  farewell  to  many,  and  last  of  all  to  Sebas- 
tian. The  priest's  heart,  he  knew,  was  very  full  when 
Richard  knelt  for  the  words  of  blessing,  and  at  the  end 
Sebastian  gave  him  the  kiss  of  peace. 

"  Go  forth,  dear  son,"  was  the  word  of  Sebastian  ;  "fight 
valiantly  for  Christ ;  fear  not  death.  But  by  the  grace  of 
God  bring  the  lost  lamb  home.  And  I  —  I  will  wrestle 
with  God,  beseeching  that  Michael  and  Raphael  and 
Gabriel,  the  warriors  of  heaven,  may  spread  their  broad 
shields  over  you.  And  may  He  who  plucked  the  three 


HOW   EYBEK  TURNED   GRAY  365 

children  from  the  fire,  and  Daniel  from  the  paw  of  the  lion, 
and  Peter  from  the  dungeon  of  Herod,  deliver  you  also,  and 
her  whom  you  seek  !  Amen." 

When  Sebastian  had  finished,  Richard  mounted  Rollo. 
He  wore  no  armor  save  the  Valencia  hauberk  beneath  his 
mantle  ;  but  Trenchefer  was  girded  to  his  side.  Musa  was 
beside  him  on  a  deer-limbed  Arabian.  They  crossed  the 
Orontes  on  the  bridge  of  boats  behind  the  camp  of  Duke 
Godfrey.  The  tents  and  bright  river  orchards  were  fading 
from  sight ;  on  before  lay  the  sunlit  rolling  Syrian  country. 
Suddenly  the  thunder  of  a  charger  at  speed  came  up  behind 
them.  Richard  turned  inquiringly.  A  moment  later  the 
strange  rider  had  dashed  abreast  —  had  drawn  rein ;  and 
Longsword  rubbed  his  two  eyes,  doubting  his  vision  — 
beside  him  was  Godfrey,  Duke  of  Lorraine. 

"My  lord  —  "  the  Norman  had  begun.  The  Duke,  he 
saw,  was  in  no  armor,  and  bore  only  his  sword.  Godfrey 
galloped  along  beside  Rollo. 

"Fair  son,"  said  he,  smiling,  "has  the  noble  lady,  Mary 
the  Greek,  less  chance  of  succor  if  three  cavaliers  ride  to 
her  aid  than  if  only  two  ?  " 

"  Impossible !  "  cried  Longsword,  distrusting  now  his 
ears ;  "  it  is  you  that  are  mad,  my  Lord  Duke.  Your  posi- 
tion, your  duties,  the  army !  Doubtless  we  ride  to  death, 
as  you  well  said." 

Godfrey's  laugh  was  merry  as  that  of  a  boy. 

"  Then  by  Our  Lady  of  Antwerp  three  swords  will  keep 
heaven  farther  away  than  two  !  Know,  De  St.  Julien,  that 
to  my  mind  nothing  stirs  in  the  camp  for  the  next  two 
weeks.  I  grow  sluggish  as  a  cow,  listening  to  Raymond's 
and  Bohemond's  wranglings.  Renard  will  spread  in  the 
camp  that  I  have  led  a  foray  southward,  and  let  men  miss 
me  if  they  will.  Enough  to  know  my  arm  and  wits  can  do 
more  for  once  at  Aleppo  than  at  Antioch." 

"Yet  this  is  utter  rashness,"  urged  Richard,  in  last  pro- 
test ;  "  to  ease  my  own  conscience,  turn  back — for  my  sake 
do  it ! " 

"  For  your  sake,"  was  the  smiling  answer,  "  I  will  keep 
my  Marchegai  neck  to  neck  with  Rollo.  I  am  not  so  old 


366  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

a  knight  that  I  have  forgotten  the  sniff  of  an  adventure. 
When  I  put  on  the  chieftain,  I  could  not  put  off  the  cava- 
lier." 

Richard  did  not  reply.  To  shake  off  Godfrey  was  im- 
possible. Presently  the  Norman  in  his  own  turn  laughed. 

"  On,  then,  to  Aleppo !  To  Aleppo,  be  it  for  life  or 
death!"  cried  Musa;  and  Richard  added:  "Tremble, 
Iftikhar,  —  the  three  best  swords  in  the  wide  earth  seek 
you  !  "  Then  each  gave  his  horse  the  head. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 

HOW   MUSA   PRACTISED    MAGIC 

IN  the  city  of  Aleppo,  close  by  the  great  Mosque 
Jami'  el-Umawi,  there  stood  a  warehouse  that  was  more 
than  commonly  busy  on  a  certain  spring  mojning.  This 
warehouse  was  of  two  stories,  built  of  coarse  brown  rubble, 
and  only  entered  from  the  narrow,  dirty  street  by  a  plainly 
arched  passageway.  Once  within,  however,  the  new- 
comer beheld  a  large  court,  surrounded  on  the  lower  floor 
by  little  shops ;  and  on  the  upper  floor,  the  whole  length 
of  the  four  sides  of  the  court,  ran  a  wooden  gallery,  behind 
which  were  storerooms  and  lodgings  for  the  wayfaring 
merchants,  who  made  this  spot  a  sort  of  hostelry  and  ren- 
dezvous. The  shops  below  were  humming  with  busy  traffic. 
Here  on  one  side  lay  the  sook  of  the  jewellers,  and  on  the 
opposite  were  arrayed  the  tiny  stalls  of  the  dealers  in  cop- 
per wares.  The  court  was  crammed  with  braying  donkeys, 
bright-robed  Syrians,  and  the  ubiquitous  sakkas,  the  water- 
bearers,  who  for  a  trifle  poured  a  draught  from  the  camel- 
skin  sacks  on  their  backs,  to  any  who  wished.  The  sakkas 
were  jostled  by  the  sellers  of  orange-flower  water ;  these  in 
turn  by  the  tall,  black  eunuchs  who  were  clearing  the  way 
for  a  closely  veiled  lady  intent  on  visiting  the  jewellers ; 
while  through  the  midst  of  men  and  beasts  swept  a  stately, 
venerable  sheik  from  the  college  at  the  mosque,  who  rained 
down  a  curse,  devoting  to  Hawiyat,  the  seventh  and  nether- 
most hell,  the  luckless  donkey-boy  that  had  brushed  a  dirty 
hand  upon  the  doctor's  red  silk  scarf  over  his  shoulders. 

The  worthy  jeweller  Asad,  whose  shop  was  on  the  right 
side  of  the  court,  had  long  since  spread  out  his  array  of 
gemmed  rings,  silver  cups,  tiring  pins,  and  Indian  neck- 

367 


368  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

laces,  and  sat  back  in  his  little  niche  nodding  sleepily,  now 
and  then  opening  one  eye  to  see  if  the  lady  who  followed 
the  eunuchs  was  coming  to  visit  him.  But  the  wares  of  his 
rival  Ibrahim  kept  her  busy,  and  Asad  contentedly  closed 
his  eye,  and  nodded  once  more,  saying  :  "  Leave  to  Ibrahim 
her  trade.  To-day  his,  to-morrow  mine.  So  Allah  will 
prosper  us  both  !  "  And,  despite  the  fact  that  one  of  the 
serving-lads  who  followed  the  sheik  was  casting  a  covetous 
glance  upon  the  handy  treasures,  the  good  Asad  nearly  fell 
asleep  on  the  mat-covered  seat.  Presently  a  question 
roused  him. 

"Worthy  sheik,  can  you  tell  me  if  you  possess  any 
Andalusian  corals  ?  If  so,  be  so  gracious  as  to  show 
them.  Not  that  I  would  buy—  But  here  Asad,  with 
a  keen  scent  for  business,  had  opened  both  eyes,  and 
was  looking  at  his  inquirer.  A  well-formed,  handsomely 
featured  Arab  was  standing  before  him ;  the  lines  of  the 
face  young,  but  the  hair  and  beard  not  a  little  white.  The 
stranger  was  dressed  decently  enough,  but  the  long,  loose 
aba  over  the  jacket  was  worn  and  soiled  with  dust,  as 
were  also  the  white  leather  shoes.  "  A  Moslem  gentle- 
man of  good  breeding,  but  perhaps  decayed  family,"  was 
the  estimate  of  the  jeweller.  And  he  answered  slowly  :  — 

"  Be  welcome  in  peace !  Sit  with  me  upon  the  rug ! 
Here,  boy,  run  to  the  confectioner's  and  bring  us  cups  of 
sherbet."  So  the  stranger  put  off  his  shoes  and  crossed 
his  feet  on  the  carpet,  facing  Asad.  The  shop  was  so 
small  that  a  second  visitor  would  barely  have  found  room. 
Asad  opened  a  little  chest,  and  brought  forth  a  tray  of 
coral  necklaces,  which  he  submitted  to  his  visitor. 

"Bismillah!"  cried  the  other,  "I  feel  the  water  hang 
on  my  eyelids  when  I  see  this  red  coral !  My  heart  goes 
back  to  my  own  country  I  have  not  seen  for  many  a  year." 

"Verily,"  exclaimed  the  jeweller;  "and  have  you  come 
from  Spain  ?  Your  speech  shows  you  no  Syrian." 

"  It  is  true ;  from  Spain.  Five  years  since  I  left  my 
dear  home  in  Malaga  for  Mecca,  to  visit  the  city  of  the 
Apostle  —  on  whom  be  peace  !  Allah  confound  the  rob- 
bers that  stripped  me  as  I  returned  across  the  desert !  I 


HOW  MUSA   PRACTISED   MAGIC  369 

had  taken  upon  myself  a  vow  not  to  return  until  I  had 
gained  sevenfold  the  thousand  dihrems  with  which  I  set 
forth.  Being  nigh  penniless,  I  have  wandered  far  and 
near,  —  Medina,  Bagdad,  Ispahan,  Bussorah,  Damascus, 
Cairo,  —  all  I  have  visited,  and  little  by  little  Allah  blesses 
me  with  gain.  Now  I  am  in  Aleppo  seeking  to  sell  some 
woollen  cloaks  of  Shiraz;  but  my  longing  for  my  own 
country  is  so  great,  I  said  to  myself,  '  Let  me  but  spend 
a  trifle  on  some  corals  of  Andalusia,  to  remind  me  of  my 
dear  Malaga ! ' ' 

"  The  Most  High  favor  you ! "  responded  the  good 
jeweller,  who  knew  that  kind  wishes  cost  nothing.  "  See, 
—  this  necklace  —  it  is  worth  twenty  dirhems  —  yet  receive 
it  as  a  gift, — it  is  yours  for  ten."  The  Spaniard's  only 
response  was  a  grunt.  Then,  after  long  silence  :  "  Have  I 
the  treasures  of  Solomon  the  Wise  ?  I  care  little  for  the 
coral,  —  a  poor  necklace ;  it  were  dear  at  three !  "  It  was 
Asad  that  grunted  now,  but  he  only  answered :  "  Have  I 
not  three  wives  and  seven  children  ?  Will  you  impose  on 
my  generosity  ? "  And  then  both  men,  knowing  perfectly 
well  they  were  on  the  highroad  to  a  fair  bargain,  took  the 
cups  which  the  boy  had  brought,  and  began  to  converse  on 
quite  alien  matters.  "A  noble  city  is  this  Aleppo,"  began 
the  Spaniard ;  "  only  Cordova  and  Malaga,  saving  always 
Bagdad,  are  finer!"  "Ya/"  cried  Asad,  "you  over- 
praise your  Spain.  Yet  Aleppo  is  a  noble  city.  Would 
to  Allah  we  had  as  noble  a  prince  to  rule  over  it ! " 

"  So !  "  exclaimed  the  other ;  "  then  Redouan  is  not 
loved  ? " 

Asad  spat  far  out  into  the  court  to  prove  his  disgust. 

"  On  the  last  day  Sultan  Redouan's  good  deeds  will 
weigh  less  than  an  ant's.  Hear  —  three  years  since  he 
slew  his  brothers,  Bahram  and  Abouthaleb,  as  caution 
against  conspiracy.  His  tyranny  drives  another  brother, 
Dekak  of  Damascus,  into  revolt.  He  makes  Yaghi-Sian 
of  Antioch  his  enemy.  Aboun  Nedj'n,  his  vizier,  is  all 
cruelty  and  beheadings.  Last  of  all,  we  are  delivered 
over  to  the  clutch  of  Iftikhar,  the  Ismaelian,  whose  evil 
deeds  Allah  requite  !  " 

2  B 


370  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"Iftikhar?     I  have  heard  the  name." 

"  Cursed  be  the  day  of  his  birth  !  The  sultan  cringes  to 
him  as  to  the  very  kalif !  He  has  become  possessed  of 
El  Halebah,  the  wonderful  palace  outside  the  city." 

"  And  he  is  there  now  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  though  soon  he  departs.  In  a  few  days  he  will 
lead  off  his  band  of  Ismaelians  to  join  the  host  which 
Kerbogha  of  Mosul  is  leading  against  the  Christians  at 
Antioch.  Eblees  pluck  them  also  !  There  is  a  rumor 
that  if  the  two  overcome  the  Christians,  they  turn  their 
arms  against  the  kalif  and  the  arch-sultan  next.  But  woe 
for  us  !  taxes  grow  each  day.  The  gatherers  are  insatiate. 
Redouan  grinds  us  at  Iftikhar' s  bidding." 

"  Wallah,  I  am  interested  ;  tell  more  of  this  Iftikhar." 

"  Alas,  brother,  I  know  little  to  tell.  These  Ismaelians 
keep  too  close.  They  talk  only  with  their  daggers."  Asad 
lifted  the  necklace ;  the  Spaniard  eyed  it  carelessly :  "  Four 
dihrems  ?  "  suggested  he.  "  I  wrong  my  household  ;  yet 
say  six,"  was  the  answer.  The  other  shook  his  head. 
Asad  dropped  the  necklace ;  then  cried,  "  Ya !  Khalid, 
come  hither  and  tell  this  worthy  sheik  of  Iftikhar  Eddau- 
leh  !  "  And  at  the  shout  a  tall,  gaunt  Arab  in  a  muezzin's 
flowing  robe  and  ample  green  turban  came  groping  through 
the  crowd,  dexterously  threading  his  way,  though  entirely 
blind.  Then  there  were  greetings,  and  Khalid  squeezed 
himself  betwixt  the  others  and  was  seated. 

"  Blind  ?  "  answered  he,  in  reply  to  a  question.  "  Yes, 
blind  by  the  blessing  of  Allah.  Once  I  had  sight  and 
starved  as  a  beggar.  Then  one  day  I  stole,  and  the  High 
Kadi  put  out  my  eyes.  Next,  the  old  muezzin  at  the  great 
mosque  died.  They  desired  a  blind  man  to  succeed  him, 
for  the  minaret  is  so  high  those  with  eyes  can  peer  into  the 
vizier's  harem  court  and  squint  at  his  women.  So  I  was 
chosen,  and  never  since  have  lacked  good  bread  and  a 
warm  sleeping-mat,  —  thanks  to  the  Compassionate  !  " 

"  But  I  desired  to  hear  of  Iftikhar,  the  Ismaelian,"  said 
the  Spaniard,  smiling. 

"  Verily,"  ran  on  the  blind  man,  "  I  can  tell  you  a  tale 
concerning  him,  for  there  is  no  gossip  in  all  Aleppo  that 


HOW  MUSA  PRACTISED   MAGIC  371 

does  not  blow  into  my  ears.  They  say  he  has  a  captive  of 
marvellous  beauty  —  a  Christian."  "A  Frank?"  was  the 
question.  "  No,  a  Greek ;  more  fair  than  the  maids  of 
Paradise,  who  are  tall  as  palm  trees.  He  has  her  in  the 
palace  El  Halebah,  and  seeks  to  win  her  love,  so  the 
eunuchs  tell." 

"  Mashallah,  I  am  astonished.  Why  should  he  ask  her 
love  if  once  he  possessed  her  ? " 

The  blind  man  blinked  slyly. 

"A  strange  tale ;  I  had  it  all  from  Wasik,  who  was  one 
of  the  eunuchs  that  guarded  her.  It  seems  the  Ismaelian 
has  once  been  among  the  Christians  (Allah  broil  all  in 
Gehenna !) ;  there  he  saw  and  loved  her,  but  she  would 
have  none  of  him.  Then  war  threw  her  into  his  hands,  and 
he  moved  earth  and  heaven  to  make  her  favor  him.  Gifts, 
dresses,  fetes,  serving-maids  fair  as  the  moon  —  he  gave  all, 
with  El  Halebah  to  be  her  dwelling ;  and  she  repaid  only 
pouts  and  high  words.  At  last  he  learns  that  she  still  sets 
great  store  on  her  husband,  a  Prankish  emir  with  their  host 
at  Antioch." 

"  Her  husband  ?  "  asked  the  Spaniard,  carelessly. 

"  You  have  heard  his  name  —  Richard  of  the  Great 
Cimeter  —  a  terrible  emir  who  slays  his  captives  ruth- 
lessly." 

"  I  have  heard  of  him  ;  go  on." 

"  Ya !  Iftikhar  prepares  his  band  to  go  to  Antioch, 
and  swears  he  will  take  this  houri  with  him,  that  she  may 
see  the  fate  of  her  dear  Franks  with  her  own  eyes.  He 
vows  likewise  he  will  give  her  Emir  Richard's  head  to 
fondle,  since  she  loves  it  so." 

"Verily  he  is  a  bloody  man,"  commented  the  Spaniard. 

"  It  is  so ;  yet  his  captive  will  find  she  had  best  put  the 
clouds  from  her  face  and  try  to  please  him.  He  is  a  man 
of  will  harder  than  Damascus  steel." 

The  Spaniard  took  up  the  coral  necklace  and  eyed  it 
critically. 

"  Five  dirhems  ?  "  suggested  he.  "  Take  it  for  five,  yet 
count  it  as  a  gift.  Alas,  my  profit !  "  sighed  Asad. 

The  other  drew  the  coins  from  a  lank  pouch,  waited 


372  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

while  Asad  bit  each  to  prove  it,  placed  the  coral  under  the 
folds  of  his  turban,  then  whispered  to  the  muezzin,  "  Friend, 
follow  me,"  —  the  same  time  slipping  a  coin  into  his  closing 
palm.  Asad's  eyes  shut  in  a  contented  cat-nap  when 
adieus  were  over;  profit  enough  gained  for  one  day.  Khalid 
followed  the  stranger  into  the  bustling  street. 

"  Good  father,"  said  the  stranger,  affably,  "  do  you  know, 
this  tale  of  the  Emir  Iftikhar  is  most  interesting.  Why  ? 
Because  it  is  most  marvellous  any  prince  should  go  to  such 
lengths  to  court  favor  with  a  mere  captive,  be  she  brighter 
than  the  sun.  But  you  surely  repeat  gossip  on  the  streets, 
you  do  not  know  the  eunuchs,  or  have  access  yourself  to 
El  Halebah?" 

Khalid  chuckled,  "  I  swear  by  Mohammed's  beard  there 
is  not  a  courtyard  about  Aleppo  I  may  not  find  and  enter, 
blind  though  I  am.  The  gate  of  El  Halebah  is  as  open  to 
me  as  to  a  glutton  the  way  to  his  mouth,  and  I  chatter  all 
day  with  the  eunuchs."  His  questioner  began  to  rattle 
his  money-bag. 

"Friend,"  said  the  Spaniard,  "you  appear  an  honest  man. 
Now  swear  thrice  by  Allah  the  Great  that  you  will  not  be- 
tray me,  and  to-night  you  shall  count  over  fifty  dirhems." 

"Allah  forbid  !  "  cried  the  muezzin,  raising  his  hands  in 
holy  horror.  "  I  cannot  know  what  wickedness  you  desire 
to  make  me  share." 

"And  I  swear  to  you  I  have  no  attempt  against  any 
man's  goods,  or  wife,  or  life,  or  honor;  and  you  shall 
count  seventy  dirhems?" 

"  I  cannot ;  how  can  I  go  before  the  Most  High  on  the 
last  day  with  some  great  sin  on  my  soul !  " 

"  Ya !  Eighty,  then?"  A  long  pause;  then  Khalid 
answered  very  slowly,  and  his  seared  eyeballs  twinkled :  — 

"  Impossible  !  —  yet  —  a  —  hundred  - 

"  They  are  yours  !  "  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Oh,  fearful  wickedness  !  how  can  I  satisfy  the  Omnipo- 
tent? Yet" — and  the  blind  eyes  rose  sanctimoniously 
toward  heaven  — "  the  divine  compassion  is  very  great. 
Says  not  Al  Koran,  '  Allah  is  most  ready  to  forgive,  and 
merciful'?" 


HOW   MUSA   PRACTISED   MAGIC  373 

"  You  will  swear,  then  ? "  demanded  the  other,  promptly. 

"Yes,"  and  Khalid  folded  his  hands  piously  while  he 
muttered  the  formula ;  then  added,  "  Now  give  me  the 
money." 

"  Softly,  brother,"  was  the  reply.  "  Remember  well  the 
other  words  of  the  Apostle,  '  violate  not  your  oaths,  since 
you  have  made  Allah  a  witness  over  you.'  The  money  in 
due  time ;  now  lead  me  and  do  as  I  shall  bid,  or  in  turn  I 
swear  you  shall  not  finger  one  bit  of  copper." 

Now  it  befell  that  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  when 
Khalid  the  blind  muezzin  sold  his  conscience  for  a  hundred 
dirhems,  Hakem  and  his  fellow-eunuch  Wasik  sat  by  the 
outer  gate  of  the  great  court  of  El  Halebah  with  a  man- 
kalaJi  board  between  them,  busy  at  the  battle  they  were 
waging  with  the  seventy-two  shell  counters.  As  they 
played,  their  talk  was  all  of  the  languishing  state  of  the 
Star  of  the  Greeks,  and  how  since  her  attempted  flight  to 
Antioch  all  the  temper  seemed  to  have  burned  out  of  her 
mettle. 

"I  protest,  dear  brother,"  quoth  the  worthy  Wasik, 
studying  the  game-board,  "  doves  of  her  feather  cannot 
perch  all  day  on  a  divan,  saying  and  doing  nothing,  and 
not  droop  and  moult  in  a  way  very  grievous  to  Cid  Iftikhar." 

"  The  Cid's  commands  are  very  strait  —  refuse  her 
nothing  in  reason,  only  make  plain  to  her  that  he  is  the 
master.  Wallah,  I  little  like  this  manner  of  bird !  To 
my  mind  there  hatches  trouble  when  a  woman  refuses  so 
much  as  to  rage  at  you.  This  very  day  I  said  in  my  heart, 
'  Go  to,  now,  Hakem ;  pick  a  quarrel  with  the  Star  of  the 
Greeks ;  she  will  be  happier  after  giving  a  few  pecks  and 
claws.'  I  call  the  Most  High  to  witness  —  she  submitted 
to  all  my  demands  meekly,  as  though  she  were  no  eaglet,  but 
a  tethered  lamb  !  An  evil  omen,  I  say.  Allah  forbid  she 
should  die  !  Iftikhar  would  make  us  pay  with  our  heads  !  " 

And  Wasik  shrugged  his  shoulders  to  show  agreement 
with  Hakem's  last  desire.  Before  he  replied  there  was  a 
loud  knocking  at  the  gate ;  the  lazy  porter  stopped  snoring, 
and  began  to  shout  to  some  one  without. 


374  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  For  the  sake  of  Allah !  O  ye  charitable !  "  was  the 
cry  from  outside,  evidently  of  a  beggar  demanding  alms. 

"  Allah  be  your  help  !  Go  your  way  !  "  the  porter  was 
replying,  and  adding :  "Off,  O  Khalid,  blind  son  of  a 
stone-blind  hound !  Must  I  again  lay  the  staff  across 
you ! " 

But  a  second  voice  answered  him  :  — 

"  Not  so,  O  compassionate  fellow-believer ;  will  you  drive 
away  a  stranger  whom  the  excellent  Khalid  has  led  here, 
craving  bounty?  Allah  will  requite  tenfold  any  mercy. 
See,  I  am  but  just  come  from  Mecca.  Behold  a  flask  of 
water  from  the  holy  well  Zemzem,  sovereign  remedy  for 
the  toothache.  I  ask  nothing.  Let  me  but  sit  awhile  in 
the  cool  of  the  porch.  I  am  parched  with  the  heat  of  the 
way." 

Hakem  had  reputation  for  being  a  pious  personage. 

"  Let  the  worthy  pilgrim  come  in  !  "  he  commanded,  the 
porter  obeying.  Wasik  had  his  doubts. 

"  This  is  Saturday,  the  most  unlucky  day ;  beware ! "  he 
muttered. 

But  Hakem  would  have  none  of  him.  Behind  Khalid 
there  entered  a  tottering  fellow,  bent  with  age,  gray  and 
unkempt ;  a  patch  over  one  eye,  his  blue  kaftan  sadly  tat- 
tered, his  turban  a  faded  yellow  shawl.  He  swung  a  huge 
hempen  sack  over  one  shoulder  and  trailed  a  heavy  staff. 

"  Allah  requite  you  and  your  house ! "  was  his  saluta- 
tion, as  he  dropped  heavily  upon  the  divan  under  the 
shaded  arcade. 

"  And  you  also,"  replied  Hakem,  ever  generous  at  his 
master's  expense.  "  Be  refreshed.  Eat  this  cool  melon 
and  be  strengthened." 

The  pilgrim  put  aside  the  plate.  "  Give  to  Khalid. 
Alas !  I  can  eat  nothing  that  was  not  eaten  by  the  Prophet 
(Allah  favor  and  preserve  him!);  such  is  the  rule  of  my 
order  of  devotees.  And  who  may  say  the  Apostle  did  or 
did  not  eat  the  rind  of  a  melon  !  "  The  eunuchs  laid  their 
heads  together. 

"  A  very  holy  man  !  "  "A  most  worthy  sheik  ;  a  true 
saint ;  a  welee  !  "  their  whispered  opinions.  So  they  kissed 


HOW   MUSA   PRACTISED   MAGIC  375 

the  old  man's  hand ;  called  him  "  father  "  ;  brought  sherbet, 
dates,  and  bread.  After  the  stranger  had  eaten  and  edi- 
fied them  all  by  his  pious  conversation,  presently  his  one 
eye  began  to  twinkle  very  brightly,  and  he  started  to  un- 
pack his  sack.  Suddenly  he  drew  forth  a  long  iron  spike, 
and  plunged  it  down  his  throat  to  the  very  butt ;  then  drew 
it  out,  laughing  dryly  at  the  wide  eyes  of  the  eunuchs. 
"Verily,"  cried  he,  "I  am  versed  in  'high'  magic  —  the 
noble  art  handed  by  the  obedient  angels  and  genii  to  devout 
Moslems.  I  know  the  'great  name '  of  Allah,  uttering  which 
bears  me  instantly  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  world ; 
see  !  "  A  puff  of  smoke  blew  from  his  mouth  ;  a  flash  of 
fire  followed.  Hakem  was  all  eyes  when  the  sheik  rose, 
drew  from  his  sack  a  number  of  brazen  pots,  placed  them 
on  the  pavement,  blew  a  spark  seemingly  from  his  mouth, 
and  the  bowls  gave  forth  a  blue  aromatic  smoke.  The 
eunuchs  began  to  quake  under  their  ebony  skins.  The 
sheik  turned  toward  them. 

"  My  sons  —  I  show  great  marvels ;  many  should  see. 
Your  master  —  away  ?  But  are  there  no  '  flowers  of 
beauty'  in  the  harem  who  would  admire  the  one-eyed 
Sheik  Teydemeh,  the  greatest  '  white '  magician  in  all  the 
land  of  Egypt  ? " 

Hakem  put  his  mouth  to  Wasik's  ear.  "  Bring  out 
Morgiana  and  the  Greek.  Let  them  be  thickly  veiled." 

Wasik  hesitated.  "  We  are  bidden  to  keep  the  Greek 
closely  in  the  harem,"  he  remarked. 

"  We  are  bidden  to  see  that  she  does  not  pine  away  with 
naught  but  grief  to  think  of.  Bring  both  forth." 

Before  the  magician  had  finished  unburdening  his  mys- 
terious sack,  Wasik  led  in  a  lady  all  buried  in  silks  and 
muslins.  Hardly  were  her  dark  eyes  visible  under  the 
veils.  "  I  bring  the  Greek,"  whispered  Wasik  to  Hakem  ; 
"  she  obeyed  me  like  a  dumb  ox,  but  Morgiana  is  in  her 
moods  and  will  go  nowhere." 

The  lady  sat  upon  the  soft  divan  listlessly,  hardly  so 
much  as  rustling  her  dress.  The  sheik  rose,  mumbled 
words  doubtless  of  incantation,  and  commenced  reeling 
cotton  ribbons  from  his  lips  till  they  littered  the  floor. 


376  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Then  he  drew  from  his  teeth  a  score  of  tin  disks  big  as 
silver  coins,  again  poured  water  into  a  borrowed  cup,  and 
gave  it  to  Hakem  to  drink  —  behold,  the  water  was  become 
sugar  sherbet !  Then  the  magician  blew  on  a  tiny  reed 
flute  a  strain  so  sweet,  so  delicious,  Hakem  verily  thought 
he  heard  the  maids  of  Paradise ;  and  as  he  sang  the  sheik 
began  to  juggle  with  balls,  first  with  one  hand,  tossing  three 
balls ;  then  laying  aside  the  flute  he  kept  six  flying,  all  the 
time  dancing  and  singing  in  a  low  quaver  in  some  tongue 
that  the  eunuch  did  not  understand,  but  thought  he  had 
once  heard  spoken  among  the  Franks  of  Sicily.  Presently 
the  sheik  threw  up  two  more  balls,  making  eight  speed  in 
the  place  of  six ;  and  he  danced  faster,  spinning  round  and 
round  amid  the  smoking  bowls,  until  he  came  to  a  stand 
right  before  the  veiled  lady,  who  was  no  longer  listless 
now,  but  sat  erect,  eager,  her  bright  eyes  flashing  from 
beneath  her  veil,  though  Hakem  did  not  see  —  all  his  gaze 
was  on  those  flying  balls.  The  sheik  halted  before  her, 
spinning  upon  one  foot,  yet  keeping  his  place.  Suddenly 
he  broke  off  his  chant  in  the  unknown  tongue  and  sang  in 
Arabic  with  clear,  deep  voice :  — 

"  Sweet  as  the  wind  when  it  kisses  the  rose 

Is  thy  breath ; 
Blest,  if  thine  eyes  had  but  once  on  me  smiled, 

Would  be  death. 
Give  me  the  throat  of  the  bulbul  to  sing 

Forth  thy  praise, 
Then  wouldst  thou  drink  the  clear  notes  as  they  spring 

All  thy  days ; 
Nard  of  far  Oman's  too  mean  for  thy  sweetness, 

Eagle-wings  lag  at  thy  glancing  eyes'  fleetness ; 
By  thy  pure  beauty,  bright  gems  lack  completeness, 

Lady,  ah  !  fairest !  " 

And  Hakem  did  not  see  the  rustling  nor  hear  the  little 
sigh  under  the  muslin  and  silk,  for  the  sheik  had  sped 
round  in  his  dance  once  more ;  again  chanting  in  that 
foreign  tongue  some  incantation,  doubtless  to  unseen 
powers  to  aid  him  in  his  art.  Then  the  wonder-worker 
halted,  wiped  the  foam  from  his  lips,  and  began  new 


HOW  MUSA   PRACTISED   MAGIC  377 

tricks  ;  blowing  a  little  earthen  bowl  from  his  mouth,  — 
drawing  a  live  rabbit  from  one  of  the  smoking  bowls, 
—  and  performing  many  marvels  more,  till  the  eunuchs 
showered  on  him  all  the  small  change  they  had  about 
them,  and  gave  him  a  great  basket  of  dates  and  figs  to 
carry  to  the  khan  where  he  said  he  lodged. 

That  night  as  Hakem,  with  clear  conscience,  went  to  bed, 
he  observed  to  Wasik :  "  Truly,  the  visit  of  the  one-eyed 
juggler  was  better  than  fifty  elixirs  for  bringing  back  bloom 
to  the  Star  of  the  Greeks  !  Surely,  if  one  such  mountebank 
can  cheer  her  thus,  she  shall  be  fed  on  white  magic  each 
day.  Cid  Iftikhar  will  summon  hither  every  skilful  conjurer 
from  Damascus  to  Bagdad."  *• 

And  Wasik  answered  :  "By  the  Prophet,  it  is  true.  We 
are  to  tame  Citt  Mary,  but  not  to  break  her  spirit.  Give 
her  mind  its  food  as  well  as  her  body.  She  is  not  like  our 
Arab  maids,  whose  Paradise  a  new  necklace  can  girdle ! " 

So  these  good  servants  took  counsel. 

That  night  also  Richard  and  Godfrey  took  their  counsel 
with  Musa  the  Spaniard.  Safe  hidden  in  the  gloom  of  a 
stall  that  joined  the  great  court  of  the  khan,  which  stood 
on  the  Alexandretta  road  without  the  western  gate  of 
Aleppo,  they  had  no  fear  of  eavesdroppers.  An  irksome 
day  it  had  been  for  the  two  Franks.  Long  since,  the  sun 
had  burned  them  bronze  as  many  a  Moor,  and  what  with 
their  black  dyed  hair  and  their  coarse  Oriental  dress,  none 
had  questioned  when  Musa,  who  passed  himself  as  a 
travelling  Berber  merchant,  declared  them  his  body-ser- 
vants. But  Godfrey  had  little  Arabic.  Richard's  accent 
would  soon  betray.  Common  prudence  forced  them  to 
sulk  all  day  in  the  stall  of  the  khan,  while  Musa  went 
forth  to  make  his  discoveries.  Now  that  he  was  back, 
their  tongues  flew  fast. 

"And  have  you  seen  her?"  That  was  Richard's  first 
question. 

"  Bismillah,  I  have  ;  or  at  least  two  eyes  bright  as  suns, 
peering  from  under  a  great  cloud  of  veils !  Recall  how  I 
made  you  think  at  Cefalu  I  was  possessed  by  '  sheytans,' 


378  GOD    WILLS   IT! 

because  of  my  art-magic  ! "  answered  Musa,  laughing  in  his 
noiseless  fashion.  "  Ya  !  When  did  old  Jamil  at  Cordova 
dream,  while  he  taught  an  idle  student  his  art,  that  by  it  I 
would  earn  six  dirhems  and  a  mess  of  figs  ?  I  met  a 
mountebank  conjurer,  bought  of  him  his  gear — wretchedly 
poor  tricks  they  were, —  and  then  found  a  worthy  blind 
muezzin,  in  a  way  I  will  tell,  to  get  me  entrance  into  the 
very  court  of  El  Halebah.  Enough ;  the  good  eunuch 
Hakem  thought  me  a  true  welee,  and  brought  out  one  of 
his  cagelings  to  see  my  magic.  I  was  bound  to  make  sure 
she  was  truly  Citt  Mary  who  was  pent  up  in  the  palace 
before  you  and  I  thrust  our  necks  into  peril ;  also  I  knew 
the  chance  of  failure  was  less  if  she  were  warned.  So 
I  sang  an  incantation  —  in  your  Provencal,  and  clapped  on 
to  that  a  verse  I  composed  before  her  at  Palermo.  When 
I  saw  her  muslins  and  silks  all  a-flutter,  I  sang  my  French 
again,  and  it  was  more  of  being  ready  for  a  visit  in  the 
night  than  of  the  efreets  and  jinns  that  aid  a  true  magician. 
Therefore  I  say  this :  All  is  ready.  To-night  the  Star  of 
the  Greeks  says  farewell  to  Iftikhar  or  —  " 

But  Musa  repeated  no  alternative. 

"  And  the  way  of  escape  ? "  asked  Godfrey.  "  By  St. 
Nicholas  of  Ghent,  this  is  no  bachelor's  adventure !  " 

Musa  laughed  again. 

"  Verily,  as  says  Al  Koran,  '  No  soul  knoweth  what  it 
shall  suffer  on  the  morrow,  but  Allah  knoweth  ; '  neverthe- 
less, so  far  as  human  wit  may  run,  much  is  prepared. 
Understand,  Cid  Godfrey,  that  Iftikhar  has  sent  away  from 
El  Halebah  the  greater  part  of  his  Ismaelian  devotees  to 
join  the  force  of  Kerbogha.  About  the  palace  lie  two 
hundred  at  most ;  a  few  stand  sentry  upon  the  road  from 
Aleppo,  a  few  more  lie  in  the  palace ;  but  nearly  all  have 
their  barrack  in  the  wood  beside  the  Kuweik,  some  distance 
northward." 

"  St.  George !  "  swore  the  Duke,  "  how  discover  all  this  ? 
Can  you  see  through  walls  as  through  Greek  glass  ?  " 

Musa  laughed  again  :  "  Allah  grants  to  every  man  sepa- 
rate gifts !  To  me  to  grasp  many  things  with  few  words 
and  few  eyewinks.  I  am  not  mistaken." 


HOW   MUSA   PRACTISED   MAGIC  379 

"  It  is  true,  did  you  but  know  him,  my  lord ;  it  is  true," 
added  Richard. 

Musa  continued  :  "  Round  dirhems  smooth  many  paths, 
even  amongst  the  Ismaelians.  With  the  aid  of  the 
reprobate  muezzin  I  discovered  that  Citt  Mary  is  held 
in  the  westerly  wing  of  the  palace,  and  guarded  by 
Hakem  and  a  few  other  eunuchs.  I  ate  salt  with  the 
chief  of  the  watch  on  the  Aleppo  road  —  a  generous  man 
who  will  take  a  hint  swiftly !  He  understands  I  have 
desire  to  bear  away  an  Armenian  maid  belonging  to  Bey- 
bars,  the  chief  steward.  When  I  come  up  the  way  in 
company  with  two  comrades,  he  and  his  men  are  blind. 
We  go  up  to  the  palace ;  we  go  away ;  no  questions. 
Beside  the  highroad  to  Antioch  will  be  tethered  our 
horses.  I  have  bought  in  the  Aleppo  market  a  desert 
steed  swift  as  the  darts  of  the  sun.  We  enter  the  palace 
with  the  armed  hand  —  shame  indeed  if  our  three  blades 
are  no  match  for  the  sleepy  eunuchs !  Once  possess  her, 
rush  for  the  horses — then,  speed,  —  speed  for  Antioch, 
trusting  Allah  and  our  steeds.  For  as  the  Most  High 
lives,  there  will  be  hot  pursuit ! " 

"  There  is  no  better  way,"  commented  Richard,  drawing 
up  a  notch  in  his  sword-belt. 

"St.  Michael  and  St.  George!"  —  swore  Godfrey  again 
—  "  a  noble  adventure  !  Joy  that  I  came  from  Antioch  !  " 

"Joy  or  sorrow  we  shall  know  full  soon,"  was  Musa's 
sober  reply.  "  We  shall  read  a  marvellous  page  in  the  book 
of  doom  this  night ;  doubt  it  not !  " 

"  And  we  set  forth —  ? "  continued  Richard. 

"At  once, — the  night  grows  dark  for  the  eye  of  an 
owl,"  answered  the  Spaniard.  "  Darkness  is  kind ;  we 
must  not  waste  it." 

"  Lead,  then,"  commanded  Godfrey.  "  The  horses  are 
ready;  there  is  food  in  the  saddle-bags." 

"  Follow,  —  and  Allah  be  our  guide  !  "  and  the  Andalu- 
sian  took  his  own  steed  by  the  bridle. 

There  was  darkness  and  silence  in  the  court  of  the  great 
khan.  The  arrow-swift  horses  of  a  Persian  trader  slept 
in  one  stall ;  a  tall  dromedary  shook  his  tether  in  another. 


380  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Richard  brushed  upon  a  shaggy  donkey;  trod  upon  a 
mongrel  dog,  that  started  with  a  sullen  howl.  From  one 
remote  stall  came  a  ray  of  torch-light,  and  the  chatter  of 
merchants  discussing  the  profits  of  the  last  Oman  caravan. 
A  single  watchman  stared  at  them  when  they  led  their 
beasts  through  the  wide  gate.  The  three  were  under  the 
stars.  Musa  took  the  bridle  of  the  horse  just  bought,  and 
the  others  followed  him.  Richard  trod  on  as  in  a  dream ; 
twice  he  passed  his  hand  before  his  eyes  as  if  to  brush 
away  the  blackness  that  was  unbroken  save  for  the  star 
mist. 

"  To-night !     To-night !  "  he  was  repeating. 

"  What,  to-night  ? "  asked  Godfrey. 

"  To-night  I  may  touch  the  hair  of  Mary  Kurkuas.  Is 
not  that  chance  worth  the  hazard  of  death  ?  But  you  ?  " 

"  I  serve  Christ  best  to-night  when  I  serve  one  so  loved 
by  Him  as  the  Lady  of  St.  Julien.  Let  us  hasten." 

They  said  little  more.  The  night  was  dark  indeed,  but 
Musa  seemed  bat-eyed.  He  led  across  the  Kuweik,  through 
the  orchards  —  dim  and  still,  until  at  a  tamarisk  bush  he 
halted.  There  they  left  the  horses.  Richard  made  sure 
that  the  lady's  saddle  on  the  fourth  horse  was  strapped 
fast.  Musa  spoke  not  a  word,  but  led  away  swiftly.  They 
were  entering  the  wood.  Richard  was  treading  at  an  eager 
pace,  with  a  swelling  heart,  when  suddenly  he  heard  a  sound 
behind  him,  —  looked  back,  —  and  behold,  on  all  sides,  as  if 
called  from  earth  by  enchantment,  were  the  dim  figures 
of  men !  And  he  could  see,  even  in  the  darkness,  that 
the  dress  of  each  was  white. 


CHAPTER   XXXV 

HOW    RICHARD    HEARD    A    SONG 

Now  what  befell  came  so  swiftly  that  in  after  days  Rich- 
ard could  never  tell  it  all.  Sure  it  is,  that  had  Trenche- 
fer  and  Godfrey's  sword  and  Musa's  cimeter  left  sheath, 
there  had  been  another  tale.  For  in  the  twinkling  that 
Richard  cast  a  backward  glance,  a  noose  whistled  through 
the  air  and  closed  about  the  Norman's  shoulders,  locking  his 
arms  helpless.  And  with  the  whistling  rope  came  a  rush  of 
feet  and  many  hands  seizing  him.  One  struggle  —  he  could 
scarce  gather  wits  to  resist ;  he  was  helpless  as  a  birdling 
before  the  snake.  At  the  same  instant  came  the  crash  and 
gasp  of  two  desperate  conflicts  more  —  Godfrey  and  Musa 
likewise  seized.  As  Richard  grasped  it,  the  Spaniard 
succumbed  as  readily  as  he.  But  the  great  Duke  was  not 
lightly  taken.  Draw  he  could  not,  but  his  mighty  hand 
tore  clear  of  the  rope  and  dashed  more  than  one  assailant 
down  before,  with  ten  upon  him,  he  was  mastered.  All 
was  done  in  less  time  than  the  telling.  Almost  before 
Longsword's  soul  cried  "  danger,"  a  torch  was  flashing  in 
his  eyes,  and  a  dozen  dark  Syrian  faces  pressing  close. 
The  torch  was  held  high,  and  flashed  before  him  twice. 
Blinded  by  the  glare,  he  saw  nothing  beyond  the  ring  of 
faces.  From  the  dark  shadow  came  a  voice  —  a  voice  he 
had  heard  before :  "  Bismillah !  The  Frank,  Richard 
Longsword,  at  last !  " 

The  Norman  did  not  cry  out.  Native  sense  told  him 
that  help  there  was  none,  and  all  the  teaching  of  the  stern 
school  wherein  he  was  bred  had  taught  him  to  bear  in 
silence.  All  stood  while  Richard  saw  the  torch  carried  to 

381 


382  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

the  other  knots  of  white-robed  men.  Then  again  the  voice : 
"  This  is  the  Spaniard,  Cid  Musa,  the  son  of  Abdallah." 
And  nowt  a  great  shout  of  triumph  :  "  Praised  be  Allah, 
destroyer  of  His  enemies !  We  take  the  Emir  Godfrey, 
chief  of  the  Prankish  unbelievers  !  " 

Longsword  had  no  need  to  be  told  that  this  was  Zeyneb's 
voice.  He  was  about  to  break  forth  with  defiance  and 
curses  upon  the  dwarf,  when  in  the  torchlight  he  saw  a 
form  taller  than  the  others,  the  plumes  of  a  haughty  helmet, 
the  flash  of  gilded  steel.  The  captors  gave  way  to  right 
and  left  as  the  chieftain  —  so  he  clearly  was  —  advanced 
until  face  to  face  with  Richard. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?  I  am  the  one-time  commander  of 
Count  Roger's  guard,  the  Egyptian  Iftikhar  Eddauleh." 

The  grand  prior  had  spoken  naturally,  without  bravado. 

And  Richard  answered  in  like  vein :  — 

"  I  claimed  the  honor  of  your  friendship  once,  my  Lord 
Iftikhar.  Fate  has  kept  us  long  asunder." 

Iftikhar's  plumes  nodded. 

"  And  brings  us  together  at  last.  Doom  leads  to  El 
Halebah  you  and  the  valorous  Cid  Musa  and  this  noble 
emir,  who  is  strange  to  me.  The  night  advances;  let 
us  go." 

Before  his  captive  could  reply,  the  Egyptian  had  faded 
in  the  dark.  An  Ismaelian  laid  his  hand  on  Richard's 
sword-belt  to  disarm  him.  Trenchefer  clanked.  Iftikhar 
spoke  out  of  the  gloom  :  — 

"  Leave  the  sword,  Harun.  A  Frank  cavalier  loves 
better  to  part  with  life  than  with  weapon.  Wallah  !  Let 
them  keep  their  blades  and  feel  them  at  their  sides ;  but 
knot  fast,  —  their  strength  is  as  seven  lions  !  " 

They  passed  a  second  cord  around  Richard's  arms, 
drawing  back  and  pinioning  them  tight  above  the  elbows. 
A  heavy  hand  on  either  shoulder  urged  him  forward. 
The  Norman  steeled  his  muscles,  made  one  effort  as 
never  before  to  snap  the  bands.  Useless ;  even  his  giant 
strength  failed.  Unresisting  he  was  led  blindly  on  through 
the  gloom,  the  captors  treading  rapidly.  They  were  soon 
in  a  grove  of  trees,  where  the  matted  leafage  cut  off  the 


HOW   RICHARD   HEARD   A   SONG  383 

least  ray  of  light.  The  torch,  which  only  flared  when 
shaken,  sank  to  a  glow  dim  as  a  firefly.  Underfoot 
Richard  could  feel  dry  twigs  crack,  and  he  smelt  the  fresh 
earthy  odor  of  fern  brakes  and  bird-loved  thickets.  The 
only  sounds  were  the  footfalls  and  the  chirp,  chirp  of  the 
crickets.  Then  a  faint  gloaming  shone  where  the  trees 
arched  and  opened  :  they  were  again  beneath  a  clear  sky. 
The  Norman  saw  the  silver  band  of  a  stream  creeping  to 
the  Kuweik  —  barely  flashing  under  the  starlight,  for 
moon  there  was  none.  His  guards  led  forward ;  under 
their  tread  a  floating  bridge  rang  hollow,  and  the  water 
gurgled  up  around  the  casks. 

For  one  moment  Richard  pondered  whether  he  could 
leap  into  the  water,  and  drift  down-stream  with  his  arms 
pinioned.  Folly — had  he  not  his  mail-shirt,  and  Trenche- 
fer  still  at  his  side  ?  A  stone  would  float  lighter !  They 
had  passed  the  bridge ;  again  were  in  the  woods.  Some 
uncanny  night  bird  was  flapping  from  bough  to  bough ;  he 
could  hear  the  whir  of  heavy  wings,  hoarse  cries,  blending 
with  the  song  of  the  crickets.  Did  not  ravens  croak  when 
men  drew  nigh  their  dooms  ?  Was  it  river  mist  only  that 
was  hanging  in  cold  beads  upon  his  brow?  Still  the 
white-robed  company  led  onward.  Not  a  word  spoken  — 
when  might  this  journey  end  ?  Richard  listened  to  the 
beating  of  his  own  heart  —  merciful  saints,  why  so  loudly  ? 
Behind  he  knew  were  led  Godfrey  and  Musa ;  they  two 
walking  to  death,  and  for  his  cause!  The  Mother  of 
Mercies  knew  it  had  been  by  none  of  his  willing.  Out  of 
the  dark  was  creeping  that  vision  dreaded  so  often, — 
repelled  so  often,  —  which  he  had  vainly  hoped  had  faded 
away  forever.  Gilbert  de  Valmont  slain  beside  the  altar ! 
Richard  looked  up  at  the  stars  shimmering  between  the 
leaves.  "Ere  these  stars  fade  in  sunlight"  —spoke  a 
voice  (from  within  or  without,  what  matter  ?) —  "  you,  Rich- 
ard de  St.  Julien,  will  be  accounting  to  God  for  the  soul 
of  that  guiltless  boy."  And  though  Longsword  thought 
of  the  Pope's  pledge  of  absolution,  of  all  the  infidels  he 
had  himself  slain  in  the  name  of  Christ,  of  all  his  suffer- 
ings in  the  chastisement  at  Dorylaeum,  —  all  merit  seemed 


384  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

turned  to  sin,  and  the  word  of  Urban  weak  to  unlock  the 
mercy  of  God  in  His  just  anger.  "  Mea  culpa  !  mea  culpa! 
mea  maxima  culpa  !  "  Other  prayers  came  not,  nor  did 
his  heart  find  room  for  curses  against  Iftikhar  or  grief  for 
Mary.  -  He  thought  of  her ;  but  truth  to  tell  he  was  too 
numbed  to  dwell  on  her  agony,  on  the  certitude  of  her 
lifelong  captivity.  And  still  the  white-robed  company  led 
him  onward,  onward. 

The  grounds  were  opening  before  him.  The  wood  broke 
away  to  right  and  left.  Richard  saw  the  vague  tracery  of 
a  wide-stretching  palace,  —  colonnades,  domes,  pinnacles, 
all  one  dim  maze  in  the  starlight.  For  the  first  time  he 
spoke  to  his  guards. 

"This  is  El  Halebah?  Tell  me  —  why  are  our  heads 
not  struck  off  at  once  ? " 

"  The  grand  prior  wills  otherwise,"  replied  Harun,  at  his 
side. 

"  Are  we  to  be  put  to  death  speedily,  or  long  reserved  ?  " 

The  Ismaelian  became  confidential. 

"  Cid,  you  talk  as  becomes  a  brave  man.  I  should  like 
to  see  you  with  your  great  sword  in  battle.  Who  am  I,  to 
know  the  desire  of  Iftikhar  ?  Yet  I  think  this  :  if  Christians 
may  enter  Paradise,  ere  midnight  you  will  be  sitting  at  ban- 
quet with  the  maids  of  pure  musk." 

"  Then  why  this  delay  —  this  endless  journey  ?  " 

Harun  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  only  the  grand  prior's  hands  and  feet.  You  will 
see." 

Richard  had  faced  death  in  battle  twenty  times  and  more, 
and  never  yet  had  felt  a  tremor.  But  riding  to  battle  was 
not  walking  to  meet  the  doom  handed  down  by  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh.  The  Norman  feared  not  death,  but  life.  Life 
through  the  ages  of  ages !  Life  shaped  for  eternal  woe, 
eternal  weal,  by  the  deeds  of  a  few  earthly  moments.  Hell 
earned  by  that  instant  at  Valmont !  Heaven  grasped  for  in 
the  transfiguration  at  Clermont !  And  the  issue  mystery  ! 
mystery  fathomless !  Kept  with  God,  the  All-merciful ; 
but  behind  all,  ordering  all,  His  awful  righteousness ! 
Richard  knew  as  well  as  he  knew  anything  that  never  in 


HOW   RICHARD   HEARD   A   SONG  385 

earthly  body  would  he  see  that  mist  of  stars  again ;  he 
looked  up  into  the  violet-black  dome,  and  trembled,  for  he 
knew  he  was  drawing  near  the  Almighty's  throne. 

They  trod  up  the  smooth  gravel  leading  to  the  palace. 
The  great  valves  of  the  portals  opened  noiselessly  at  some 
unseen  bidding,  then  closed  behind.  A  single  flickering 
lamp  went  before,  as  they  glided  through  long  corridors,  or 
under  airy  domes,  where  the  wan  light  struggled  up  to  col- 
ored vaulting,  —  gleamed,  vanished.  The  feet  touched  soft 
rugs,  and  clicked  on  marbles.  More  doors  opened.  The 
Norman  was  led  down  stairways,  along  stone  galleries, 
where  the  air  was  foul  and  chill.  Presently  there  were 
more  lamps  ahead,  the  ceiling  was  higher:  Richard 
sniffed  sweet  fresh  air.  They  were  in  a  room  of  no  great 
size ;  floor,  walls,  vaulting,  of  gray  stone  ;  a  stone  bench 
running  along  the  walls;  one  or  two  niches,  where  perhaps 
in  daytime  a  few  rays  struggled  in.  Bronze  lamps  swung 
from  chains,  casting  a  wavering,  ghostly  light,  as  they 
puffed  in  the  wind  that  crept  through  the  scanty  windows. 

Others  had  preceded  the  captives  into  this  chamber. 
Two  figures  advanced  to  greet  them,  as  the  three  were 
halted,  —  the  lofty  Iftikhar,  the  dwarf  Zeyneb.  It  was 
the  latter  that  first  spoke.  To  Musa  he  paid  an  obsequious 
salaam. 

"  The  peace  of  Allah  be  yours,  most  noble  Cid  Musa," 
his  greeting. 

"  And  with  you,  the  strife  of  Eblees ! "  replied  the 
Andalusian,  whose  tongue  at  least  was  not  pinioned. 

"  O  valorous  cavaliers ! "  protested  Zeyneb,  raising  his 
hands.  "  What  misfortune !  Bow  to  the  Omnipotent's 
will ;  what  is  doomed  is  doomed !  It  was  doomed  that 
I  should  behold  you,  son  of  Abdallah,  creeping  about 
Aleppo  and  El  Halebah.  Clever  disguises,  — not  my  Lord 
Iftikhar  himself  could  have  penetrated  so  admirable  a 
conjurer.  How  adorably  was  Hakem  toyed  with  !  Wallah, 
I  could  scarce  have  bettered  it  myself !  " 

Musa  repaid  with  one  of  his  softest  smiles. 

"  Were  my  wealth  that  of  Ormuz,  how  could  I  repay 
your  praise,  O  Kalif  of  the  black-hearted  jinns !  I  equal 


386  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

in  guile  Zeyneb,  the  crooked-backed  toad  of  the  gallant 
Iftikhar  ?  Forbid  it,  Allah !  " 

Zeyneb  laughed,  not  very  easily.  He  wished  Musa's 
tongue  were  as  fast  as  his  arms.  The  dwarf  salaamed 
again. 

"  No  more ;  I  leave  you  to  my  Lord  Iftikhar.  Enough, 
you  know  it  was  I  —  I,  Zeyneb  the  dwarf,  the  hunchback 
—  who  discovered  the  wiles  of  Musa  the  great  cavalier; 
who  led  him  and  his  two  valiant  Prankish  comrades  into 
my  master's  power.  And  remember,  Cid  Richard,  the 
word  on  the  wall  at  La  Haye :  '  Three  times  is  not  four. 
There  is  a  dagger  that  may  pierce  armor  of  Andalus.' " 
A  third  salaam,  then,  "  The  mercy  of  Allah  be  with  you ; 
my  lord  will  tell  how  many  moments  are  left  in  which  to 
rain  curses  on  your  poor  slave  Zeyneb." 

Musa  shrugged  his  shoulders,  a  gesture  more  eloquent 
than  any  he  could  make  with  his  hands. 

"  And  think  not,"  he  answered  still  sweetly,  "  my  friends 
or  I  have  breath  or  wind  to  waste  cursing  such  as  you.  I 
thank  your  courtesy ;  we  shall  never  meet  again  to  requite  it." 

"  Never  ?  "  queried  Zeyneb,  cocking  his  evil  head.  "  Not 
on  the  Judgment  Day  when,  says  Al  Koran,  '  Allah  shall 
gather  all  men  together,  and  they  shall  recognize  one 
another'?" 

The  Spaniard  cut  him  short. 

"  Fly !  Think  not  the  All  Just  will  so  much  as  raise 
again  your  soul,  even  to  plunge  it  into  the  hell  where  wait 
garments  of  fire.  Soul  you  have  not,  unless  base  vermin 
have.  When  they  rise  from  the  dead,  so  will  you  —  no 
sooner ! " 

Zeyneb  would  have  ventured  reply,  but  Iftikhar  pointed 
down  a  passage.  The  dwarf  vanished  instantly.  Musa 
spat  after  him.  "  Purer  air,  now  his  stench  is  not  by  !  "  his 
comment. 

Iftikhar,  who  had  been  silent,  turned  to  his  captives. 

"  My  lords,"  said  he,  gravely,  speaking  Provencal,  "  we 
meet  again  at  last,  as  I  have  long  desired." 

"You  are  wrong,  my  emir,"  interrupted  Longsword. 
"At  Dorylaeum  I  sought  you  long  and  vainly." 


HOW  RICHARD   HEARD  A  SONG  387 

"And  I  think  it  well,"  continued  the  Egyptian,  flushing, 
but  not  raising  his  voice,  "since  we  shall  not  soon  meet 
again,  that  I  say  a  few  things.  This  Duke  Godfrey,  as 
your  friend,  shall  fare  as  do  you." 

"  Say  it  out,  fledgling  of  Satan !  Say  it  out,"  roared  the 
Duke.  "  You  will  summon  the  headsman.  By  Our  Lady 
of  Antwerp,  you  will  find  those  before  Antioch  who  will 
not  forget ! " 

"  Gallantly  done,  my  lord,  "  taunted  Richard.  "  At 
Palermo  you  boasted  you  loved  to  talk  with  a  foe  over  two 
sword-blades ;  Syrian  nard  softens  your  courage  and  your 
arm." 

Iftikhar  lost  control  for  a  moment,  and  boasted  wildly. 

"  Ya  !  You  may  well  curse,  for  I  have  triumphed.  As 
a  lion  you  have  lived  ;  as  a  dog  you  shall  die.  The  grudge 
is  old  ;  the  vengeance  sweetens  with  the  years.  Father, 
brother,  mother,  sister,  I  have  taken  from  you.  Yes,  by 
the  splendor  of  Allah,  your  bride  also !  Mary,  Star  of  the 
Greeks,  is  mine !  I  will  place  your  head  before  her.  I 
will  say,  '  See,  see,  Richard,  your  lord,  your  husband.'  For 
I  have  conquered  —  have  conquered  utterly  !  " 

He  paused  to  gather  breath.  Richard  was  silent,  repeat- 
ing to  himself  the  proverb  that  "  stillness  angers  most." 
The  Egyptian  recovered  his  control,  and  went  on.  "  You, 
Richard  Longsword,"  said  he,  "you,  Cid  Musa,  and  you, 
Duke  Godfrey,  have  come  to  Aleppo  to  steal  away  my 
prize.  You  fail.  You  shall,  as  Allah  reigns,  count  out  the 
price !  I  designed  to  start  for  Antioch  to-morrow,  intent 
on  taking  your  heads  to  the  Star  of  the  Greeks.  And  I 
should  not  have  failed.  Kerbogha's  host  is  but  ten  leagues 
from  your  Christian  camp.  You  know  nothing.  You  will 
be  struck  as  by  a  bolt  from  the  clear  sky.  Knight  and 
villain,  you  shall  die  far  from  Jerusalem,"  —  the  Egyptian 
broke  off  in  a  laugh ;  for  the  Duke,  steel  against  his  own 
peril,  had  turned  gray  at  this  tale  of  danger  to  the  army. 

"Ah  !  my  Lord  Godfrey,"  went  on  Iftikhar,  "it  matters 
little  to  you  whether  you  end  all  at  Aleppo  or  at  Antioch. 
For  on  my  faith  as  a  cavalier,  I  swear  there  shall  not 
one  man  of  all  your  host  escape.  Already  Kerbogha 


388  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

advances  beyond  Afrin,  and  not  a  Christian  dreams. 
Your  scouting  parties  are  gallantly  led,  fair  Franks  !  " 

"Dear  God,"  prayed  Richard,  "not  for  our  sakes,  but 
for  the  love  of  the  army  of  Thy  Son,  suffer  us  even  now  to 
escape  this  Thine  enemy  !  "  But  Iftikhar  continued :  "  I 
speak  too  long.  Enough  that  I  shall  bring  you  this  night 
before  the  tribunal  of  the  Ismaelians,  since  the  dagger  is 
only  for  those  whom  our  judgments  cannot  otherwise  reach. 
You  shall  stand  before  our  Dais,  that  is  to  say  the  'masters,' 
and  our  Refiks,  that  is  the  'companions,'  and  it  will  be  asked 
you  if  you  sought  the  hurt  of  any  Ismaelian.  Make  what 
defence  you  may.  If  the  tribunal  decide  against  you,  you 
are  delivered  over  by  the  court,  and  the  world  hears  of  you 
no  more." 

"  Spare  the  mockery,"  thundered  Richard,  blazing  forth 
at  last.  "  Slay ;  but  summon  no  judges  who  are  sworn 
against  all  mercy!"  Iftikhar's  answer  was  a  gesture 
toward  the  passage.  "  Look !  "  and  Richard  leaped  for- 
ward, bound  as  he  was,  so  fiercely  that  he  nigh  flung  down 
the  three  Ismaelians  that  held  him.  Two  eunuchs  were 
leading  Mary  Kurkuas  into  the  chamber.  Longsword  had 
never  known  a  moment  like  this.  Then,  if  never  before, 
he  felt  the  pains  of  hell.  Angry  God  and  angry  devil 
might  devise  nothing  worse.  Mary  was  led  before  him. 
She  was  very  white,  —  white  dress,  white  hands,  white  face  ; 
and  her  eyes  seemed  to  touch  the  bare  gray  room  with 
brightness.  They  must  have  told  her  what  awaited,  else 
she  had  never  been  so  calm  and  still  and  beautiful.  So 
beautiful !  Was  Mary,  Mother  of  God,  sitting  upon  the 
Heavenly  Throne,  fairer  than  she  ?  Blasphemy  ?  —  but  the 
thought  would  come !  And  she  did  not  moan,  nor  cry  in 
agony.  That  was  Mary's  way,  —  Richard  knew  it,  —  that 
she  was  ready  to  turn  Iftikhar's  desires  against  himself,  and 
make  her  last  Vision  one  of  strength  and  of  peace.  With 
all  the  pain,  —  pain  too  deep  for  words,  —  under  the  influ- 
ence of  her  eyes,  he  felt  a  sweet,  holy  spell  creeping  over 
him,  and  knew  that  the  bitterness  of  death  was  past. 

The  two  negroes  led  her  until  she  stood  beside  Iftikhar. 
The  Egyptian  towered  over  her,  splendid  as  Satan  when 


HOW   RICHARD   HEARD   A  SONG  389 

robed  as  angel  of  light.  The  grand  prior  looked  upon  her 
face;  and  Richard  knew  he  saw  all  the  brightness  of 
heaven  therein.  But  a  cloud  passed  across  the  counte- 
nance of  Iftikhar,  as  if  in  that  moment  of  earthly  triumph 
he  felt  there  was  something  passing  betwixt  his  captive  and 
his  slave  which  not  all  the  might  of  the  "  devoted  "  could 
win  for  his  own.  The  Egyptian  pointed  from  Mary  to  the 
Norman  —  his  voice  very  proud. 

"  Look,  Star  of  the  Greeks,  my  vow  is  made  good. 
Behold  how  Allah  has  favored  Iftikhar  Eddauleh.  You 
indeed  see  Richard  de  St.  Julien,  your  husband." 

Mary  was  stately  as  a  palm  when  she  answered. 

"  And  do  you  think,  Cid,  that  you  have  led  me  hither  to 
see  me  kneel  at  your  feet,  to  hear  me  moan  fdr  mercy  for 
these  men  ?  I  know  you  over-well,  Iftikhar  Eddauleh. 
No  human  power  can  turn  that  heart  of  yours  when  once 
it  is  fixed.  But  God  in  His  own  time  shall  bow  you  utterly. 
I  do  not  fear  for  Richard,  for  these  his  friends,  for  myself. 
Life  sometimes  is  nothing  so  precious  that  it  is  worth  buy- 
ing with  too  great  a  price.  For  these  to  whom  God  says 
'  Go,"  the  time  will  not  seem  long  ;  and  for  me,  to  whom  He 
says  '  Stay,'  —  I  shall  be  given  strength  to  bear  your  power  or 
that  of  other  demon.  But  there  is  greeting  in  the  end  with 
naught  to  sunder.  And  to  you,  —  to  you,"  —  her  eyes  were 
not  lamps  now ;  they  were  fiery  swords,  piercing  the 
Ismaelian  through,  —  "God  perhaps  lengthens  out  many 
days  of  sin  and  glory,  that  for  every  instant  on  earth  there 
may  be  an  aeon  hereafter  of  woe." 

Iftikhar's  face  had  turned  to  blackness.  He  raised  his 
hand  to  smite.  Richard  thought  to  see  him  fell  the  Greek 
to  the  stones ;  but  his  uplifted  arm  lowered,  the  spasm  of 
madness  passed. 

"Ask  anything,  anything  but  the  lives  of  these  men!" 
cried  he,  half  pleading,  to  turn  away  the  bitterness  of  her 
curse  ;  "  and  as  Allah  lives  I  will  not  deny !  " 

"  Take  Richard  Longsword,  and  then  take  all  else.  For 
God  and  His  angels  witness,  you  spread  betwixt  you  and 
me  a  sea  ten  thousand  years  shall  see  unbridged  !  " 

"  I    cannot !    I    cannot  spare ! "   the  words   came   from 


390  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Iftikhar  as  a  moan.  "  Let  Richard  Longsword  live,  and  I 
shall  win  you  never !  " 

And  Richard  was  about  to  cry  that  life  was  worthless  if 
Mary  humbled  herself  in  his  behalf.  But  the  Greek  spoke 
for  him. 

"  One  boon,  Cid  Iftikhar.  I  do  not  plead  for  these 
men.  I  know  my  husband  and  Cid  Musa  would  rather  die 
by  your  cord  than  see  me  on  my  knees  before  you.  Kill 
or  spare,  you  can  never  win  more  of  me  than  my  body,  held 
already.  But  now  let  me  go  ;  I  can  do  nothing  here." 

Iftikhar  motioned  to  the  blacks  to  lead  her  away. 

"  Richard,  my  husband,"  said  she,  softly,  "you  and  Musa 
and  my  Lord  Godfrey  did  wrong  to  come  hither ;  but  I 
love  you  for  it  more.  God  will  be  kind.  You  will  not  find 
it  long  to  wait  for  me  in  heaven." 

"  May  Christ  pity  you,  sweet  wife !  "  answered  the  Nor- 
man. 

"  He  will  pity,  do  not  fear."  That  was  all  she  said. 
She  was  gone.  Her  wondrous  eyes  lit  the  room  no  more ; 
but  a  peace  was  lighted  in  Richard's  heart,  which  naught 
could  take  away.  Iftikhar  turned  abruptly  the  moment 
the  Greek  had  vanished. 

"  My  friends,"  declared  he,  with  an  ill-assumed  irony, 
"  I  can  do  nothing  further  to  serve  you.  Before  midnight 
our  long  accounting  is  ended.  Leave  to  Allah  the  rest. 
Others  will  care  for  you  at  the  tribunal." 

Richard  held  up  his  head  proudly. 

"  And  I,  Richard  Longsword,  standing  in  the  presence 
of  death,  do  cite  you,  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  to  stand  with  me 
before  no  less  a  tribunal  than  the  judgment  seat  of  Almighty 
God.  There  to  answer,  not  as  Moslem  to  Christian,  but 
as  man  to  man,  for  the  blood  you  have  shed  wantonly,  the 
foul  deeds  you  have  plotted,  the  pure  women  you  have 
wronged,  the  very  saint  of  God  you  have  brought  to 
agony.  At  His  judgment  seat  I  will  accuse  you,  and  you 
shall  make  answer  to  Him  and  all  His  holy  angels.  So 
say  I !  " 

"  And  I !  "  thundered  Godfrey. 

"  And  I !  "  cried  Musa. 


HOW   RICHARD    HEARD   A   SONG  391 

They  saw  the  Ismaelian's  face  flush  once  more.  By  an 
effort  he  reined  his  curses.  Without  a  word  he  vanished. 
Richard  turned  to  his  comrades. 

"  Dear  friends,  this  is  the  last  adventure,"  said  he. 
"  Heaven  is  witness  I  did  not  pray  you  to  go  with  me  to 
Aleppo." 

"  You  did  not,"  was  the  answer  of  both.  And  Musa 
added :  "  My  brother  and  you,  fair  lord,  we  are  at  the 
end.  You  are  praying  to  your  gentle  Issa ;  I  to  Allah,  the 
One.  Yet  our  hearts  are  pure ;  and  be  you  right  or  I,  do 
not  think  God  will  lift  some  to  Paradise,  and  speed  some  to 
hell,  because  your  mothers  taught  to  call  on  Christ,  and 
mine  to  call  on  Allah."  ' 

The  Spaniard  fixed  his  sweet  and  winning  gaze  upon 
the  great  Duke  of  Lorraine,  upon  Godfrey,  the  chief  of 
the  slayers  of  the  infidels ;  and  the  Duke  answered  (only 
Richard  knowing  what  the  words  meant  from  such  lips):  — 

"  No,  by  Our  Lady  of  Pity ;  be  you  Moslem,  be  you 
Christian,  Sir  Musa,  —  I  would  that  many  of  the  army  of 
the  Cross  stood  so  blameless  as  you  in  the  sight  of  God. 
For  never  in  all  my  life  have  I  met  more  spotless  cavalier 
than  you  have  proved.  I  am  proud  to  call  you  comrade." 

One  of  the  white-robed  Ismaelians  had  entered  the 
chamber,  and  uplifted  his  hand. 

"  The  tribunal  waits,"  he  announced.     "  Come  !  " 

Iftikhar  Eddauleh  left  the  gallery  in  the  cellars  of  El 
Halebah  with  a  strange  storm  raging  in  his  breast.  Vic- 
tory, pride,  the  sense  of  having  at  last  settled  all  grudges 
—  in  this  he  exulted.  But  with  it  all  came  the  knowledge 
that  the  death  of  Richard  Longsword  meant  the  death  of 
the  last  hope  to  make  Mary  the  Greek  other  than  his  slave. 
She  had  truly  said,  —  the  Egyptian  knew  it,  —  old  age 
might  come,  aeons  might  speed,  but  henceforth  Iftikhar 
would  be  only  to  her  as  malevolent  jinn.  The  grand 
prior  cursed  himself  for  the  mad  folly  that  had  led  him  to 
bring  Mary  and  Richard  face  to  face.  She  had  been 
brought  to  give  agony  ;  she  had  given  strength.  Iftikhar 
knew  that  the  sight  of  her  presence,  the  sound  of  her 


392  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

voice,  had  stolen  away  the  sting  of  death  from  the  Nor- 
man. Likewise  he  knew  that,  with  all  the  "devoted," 
with  all  the  glory  of  his  state,  he  was  weaker  than  the 
will  of  this  unshielded  woman,  that  he  could  put  forth 
all  his  might  to  crush  that  will,  and  do  it  in  vain.  In  the 
eyry  apartment  of  Morgiana,  he  found  the  four  around 
whom,  next  to  himself,  the  life  of  El  Halebah  revolved 
—  Mary,  Zeyneb,  Morgiana,  and  Hakem.  The  Greek 
was  standing  beside  the  divan  whereon  sat  the  Arabian 
wife.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  her  eyes  so  bright  that 
their  fire  seemed  not  of  this  world.  She  was  calm,  and 
her  words  came  soft  and  slow.  But  not  so  Morgiana; 
Iftikhar  foresaw  the  lightnings  the  moment  he  entered. 
He  was,  however,  in  no  mood  to  quail.  Ignoring  the 
others,  he  strode  to  Morgiana,  and  began  half  severely :  — 

"  Moon  of  the  Arabs,  it  is  late.  I  commanded  you  to 
retire  early." 

Morgiana  lifted  her  blue  eyes. 

"I  have  heard.     Well?" 

"  Do  you  disobey  before  my  face  ? "  retorted  the  grand 
prior. 

The  answer  came  when  Morgiana  leaped  to  her  feet. 

"  Away,  away,  hound  of  Eblees  !  Away,  away,  begotten 
of  the  sheytans  !  Get  you  gone,  or  even  I  shall  curse  you!  " 

Iftikhar  doubted  his  ears.  Never  had  Morgiana  reviled 
him  thus. 

"  Silence ;  my  will  is  law !  "  And  he  struck  her  with 
his  open  palm  on  her  mouth.  Struck  once,  then  recoiled, 
for  a  flame  of  wrath  flashed  with  the  red  flush  on  Morgi- 
ana's  face,  such  as  the  Egyptian  had  never  seen  before. 
Now  he  saw,  and  drew  back.  Morgiana  spoke  very 
slowly,  sign  of  deepest  anger. 

"Strike  —  strike  —  again!  and  by  the  Great  Name  of 
Allah,  I  swear  I  will  bide  my  time,  and  murder  you  in 
your  bed." 

And  Iftikhar,  man  of  passion  and  blood,  felt  his  own 
blood  creeping  chill.  Half  he  felt  a  knife  at  his  throat. 
His  answer  died  on  his  lips.  Morgiana  was  speaking 
rapidly  now :  — 


HOW   RICHARD    HEARD   A   SONG  393 

"  Look  on  the  Greek,  Iftikhar  Ecldauleh  !  Look  on  the 
Greek.  Do  you  know  what  pain  is,  and  agony,  beyond 
your  conceiving?  See  it  there  —  see  it  there  —  and 
tremble !  For  I  say  to  you,  every  tear  that  Mary,  the  Star 
of  the  Greeks,  shall  shed,  every  drop  her  torn  heart 
bleeds,  is  reckoned  against  your  name  in  the  great  book  of 
Allah.  Yes;  and  you,  Iftikhar,  shall  pay  the  price  —  the 
price  —  the  price  —  through  the  long  years  of  eternity. 
Therefore  tremble,  for  earth  and  sea  shall  be  confounded 
ere  the  All-Just  forget  one  pang,  one  deed  of  darkness! " 

Iftikhar  tore  the  dagger  from  his  belt.  He  had  words 
at  last  now. 

"  You  are  mad.     I  will  kill  you  !  "  ' 

"Kill  me?"  Morgiana  threw  back  her  black  hair,  and 
laughed  as  would  an  invulnerable  jinn.  "  Kill  me  ?  Can 
you  think  of  nothing  worse  ?  "  And  again  she  laughed. 

The  Egyptian  shrank  back  a  step  or  two,  as  she 
advanced.  Suddenly  her  laughter  ended,  her  voice  be- 
came calm. 

"  Cid  Iftikhar,"  she  said  quietly,  "you  see  I  am  in  no 
mood  to  receive  commands  to-night.  Neither  does  Citt 
Mary  crave  your  company.  You  have  triumphed,  my  Cid. 
Doom  favors  you.  You  must  not  exult  mercilessly.  Be 
magnanimous;  leave  us  alone  this  night." 

Iftikhar  responded  almost  perforce  to  this  appeal. 

"  I  grant  anything  in  reason,  Morgiana.  Rage  no  more, 
I  will  leave  you."  And  he  was  gone  with  a  low  salaam. 
Zeyneb  made  to  follow  him,  but  his  foster-sister  recalled. 

"  Zeyneb,"  said  she,  "  I  wish  you  to  tell  us  of  the  state 
of  the  prisoners.  Will  Iftikhar  return  to  see  the  exe- 
cution ? " 

The  dwarf  showed  his  white  teeth.  He  marvelled  that 
Morgiana  should  question  thus  with  Mary  present,  but, 
nothing  loth,  replied:  "  He  will  not ;  he  goes  to  his  chamber 
to  sleep.  In  the  morning  they  bring  him  the  heads." 

Mary's  white  cheeks  grew  whiter,  but  the  Arabian  did 
not  hesitate. 

"  And  when  will  the  execution  take  place  ? " 

Zeyneb  grinned  again.     "The  bells  on  the  water-clock 


394  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

say  it  is  the  end  of  the  fourth  hour  of  the  night;  at  the  end 
of  the  fifth  hour,  unless  the  tribunal  clears  them,"  -  -  his 
grin  broadened,  —  "  Harun  twists  the  cord." 

Morgiana  drew  up  one  little  foot  on  the  divan,  and 
clasped  it  with  both  hands. 

"  Wallah  !  How  admirable  has  been  your  trap,  foster- 
brother.  Mary  had  told  nearly  all  you  had  done,  before 
Iftikhar  broke  in  upon  us.  Woe  to  us,  and  joy  to  you ! 
Allah  grant  we  may  have  our  day  also.  So  it  was  you 
alone  that  penetrated  the  disguise  of  Cid  Musa.  Allah 
himself  might  hardly  outwit  you !  " 

Zeyneb  smiled  at  the  flattery.  "  I  am  honored,  foster- 
sister." 

"  And  tell  this,"  demanded  she,  letting  her  foot  drop  to 
the  rugs,  "  are  the  faithless  sentries  warned  ? " 

"  Mashallah,  no  !  They  think  all  is  well.  In  the  morn- 
ing they  are  seized  and  beheaded.  We  led  the  prisoners 
to  the  palace  by  another  way." 

"  What  escapes  you,  my  Zeyneb ! "  cried  the  other,  ris- 
ing and  stepping  toward  the  doorway.  "  But  tell  me  this, 
—  are  the  horses  of  these  three  adventurers  taken  ?  " 

Zeyneb  gave  a  start  and  a  curse. 

"  Blasted  am  I !  Forgotten  !  Iftikhar  left  all  in  my 
hands.  The  horses  are  still  where  they  were  tethered. 
They  will  be  taken  by.  morning.  I  will  go  and  send  for 
them  at  once." 

Before  he  could  cry  out,  Morgiana  had  dashed  to  the 
door  and  shot  the  bolt. 

"  Wallah  !  You  rave,"  howled  the  dwarf,  smitten  with 
fear.  "  Help,  Hakem ! "  For  Morgiana,  with  arms  out- 
stretched, stood  before  the  door,  her  face  flaming  de- 
fiance. 

"  Mary,"  cried  Morgiana,  "  are  you  very  strong  ?  Pluck 
that  adder  Hakem  round  the  neck,  and  hold  fast !  For 
the  life  of  Richard  Longsword,  hold  !  " 

Dwarf  and  eunuch  had  sprung  on  Morgiana,  but  the 
Greek  also.  Right  round  the  body  of  the  effeminate 
Hakem  Mary  cast  her  white  arms,  caught  him,  held 
him ;  for  the  strength  of  an  angel  was  given  her,  and 


HOW   RICHARD   HEARD  A   SONG  395 

the  eunuch's  strength  was  that  of  a  fatted  sheep.  Mean- 
time Morgiana  and  Zeyneb  waged  their  fiercer  battle. 

"  Mad  woman !  "  raged  the  dwarf,  writhing,  struggling, 
snapping  as  for  dear  life.  "  You  shall  be  flogged  for  this, 
beheaded,  flayed !  Release,  or  you  die !  Release !  Let 
go,  or  — "  But  Morgiana  wrested  him  almost  from  his 
feet  as  they  struggled,  and  every  time  he  saw  the  terrible 
purpose  in  her  eyes  his  heart  sank  lower.  And  still  they 
wrestled. 

"  Help  !  Rescue  !  "  shrieked  the  dwarf,  feeling  himself 
nigh  mastered.  Even  louder  howled  Hakem,  tight  held 
in  the  vise  of  Mary's  arms. 

Shrill  above  their  cry  was  the  laugh  of  Morgiana. 
"Aye,  shriek!  Call  as  you  will,"  sped  her  boast. 
"Louder! — louder!'  Call  Iftikhar,  the  eunuchs,  the  'de- 
voted.' Far  below,  none  hear.  Cry  louder  —  we  are 
alone  in  the  tower  of  the  palace.  Call !  Call !  None 
hears  save  Allah,  and  it  is  He  who  fights  for  me !  Call 
again!  Make  the  stars  pity,  and  rain  their  aid  —  naught 
is  nearer !  " 

Zeyneb  wrested  one  hand  free.  For  a  twinkling  he 
brandished  a  dagger.  A  second  twinkling,  it  flew  from 
his  hand  across  the  room. 

"  Ya  !  "  rang  the  shout  of  his  assailant.  "  See  !  I  am 
strong,  strong,  and  Allah  fights  for  me,  —  for  Morgiana  the 
blue-eyed  maid  of  Yemen  !  Bismillah,  it  is  done  !  " 

And  with  the  word  Zeyneb's  feet  spun  from  beneath 
him.  He  fell  heavily  to  the  floor ;  so  heavily  that  despite 
the  rug  he  was  senseless  in  a  flash.  Morgiana,  with  a 
great  cry  of  delight,  bounded  after  his  dagger,  secured  it, 
was  at  Mary's  side.  Hakem  was  struggling  desperately. 
He  could  not  shake  the  Greek's  hold,  and  dared  not  do  her 
harm.  The  Arabian  held  the  knife  edge  to  his  throat. 

"Hakem,"  came  her  voice,  hard  as  steel  on  steel,  "let 
your  heart  say  the  '  Great  Prayer,'  the  Fafhah.  You  are 
going  to  die." 

"  Spare,"  pleaded  the  Greek,  beginning  to  tremble, 
"  spare  that  God  may  spare  us !  " 

"  Dead  snakes  never  bite !  "  came  the  answer. 


396  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Mary  never  forgot  the  terrible  glow  on  Morgiana's  face 
when  that  deed  was  done,  which  made  the  Greek  shiver. 
The  body  of  the  eunuch  dropped  from  her  arms,  lay  upon 
the  rugs,  the  blood  spurting  from  the  neck.  The  Arabian 
was  kneeling  over  the  prone  form  of  Zeyneb.  She  thrust 
away  the  vest,  laid  a  hand  on  his  heart. 

"Living!"  whispered  she,  raising  her  eyes.  "I  may 
do  wrong,  but  he  is  my  foster-brother,  and  faithful  to 
Iftikhar." 

The  Greek  was  too  faint  to  do  anything ;  but  Morgiana 
rapidly  plucked  the  curtain  from  the  doorway,  tore  into 
strips,  knotted  about  the  dwarf's  arms  and  feet.  Then  she 
felt  in  his  bosom  and  drew  forth  a  small  key. 


The  three  bronze  lamps  high  up  in  the  vault  were 
nickering  dimly.  The  shadows  of  the  pillars  lay  long 
and  dark  across  the  gray  slabs  of  the  pavement.  Upon 
the  floor  in  irregular  semicircle  sat  a  score  of  figures  in 
white  mantle  and  turban,  red  girdle  and  shoes.  The  fig- 
ures were  rigid  as  marble,  features  moving  not,  lips  speak- 
ing not ;  only  the  dark  eyes  flashed  back  the  shimmerings 
of  the  lamps.  In  the  centre  of  the  group,  and  facing  the 
others,  another  figure  was  standing,  habited  like  the  rest, 
save  that  the  turban  was  black,  and  a  great  diamond,  bright 
as  a  tiger's  eye,  twinkled  against  it.  This  figure  was 
speaking. 

"  Musa,  son  of  Abdallah,  and  you,  Godfrey  and  Richard, 
lords  of  the  Franks," — the  words  came  cold  and  metallic, — 
"you  have  been  brought  before  the  tribunal  of  the  holy 
Order  of  Ismael.  You  have  been  accused  of  being  the 
foes  and  plotting  the  hurt  of  the  Grand  Prior  of  Syria, 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh.  Nor  have  you  denied  this ;  you  have 
confessed  you  desired  his  hurt,  you  have  boasted  you  de- 
sired his  death  and  dishonor.  And  now  it  behooves  to 
ask,  were  you  acquainted  with  the  lot  of  those  who  so  much 
as  imagine  harm  to  the  least  'aspirant,'  a  Laslk  of  the 
sacred  Ismaelians,  far  from  comparing  such  to  the  vice- 
gerent of  our  Lord  Hassan  Sabah's  self  ?  " 


HOW   RICHARD   HEARD  A  SONG  397 

Whereupon  Musa,  facing  the  semicircle,  with  Richard  and 
Godfrey  at  his  side,  answered  in  his  melodious  Arabic  :  — 

"  We  well  understand  that  he  who  offends  against  one  of 
your  order  shall  sooner  receive  mercy  from  Eblees  than 
from  you.  Knowing  that,  we  went  forth ;  knowing  that, 
we  stand  here.  Our  foe  is  Iftikhar  Eddauleh.  You  are  his 
slaves ;  bought  cattle  were  not  his  more  utterly.  Proceed 
to  sentence." 

Rain  beating  an  iron  wall  had  made  deeper  dint  than  his 
words  on  that  array  of  stony  features.  A  long  silence  — 
then  the  former  speaker  looked  upon  his  colleagues. 
Slowly  he  began  :  "  It  is  the  custom,  O  Ismaelians,  —  and 
it  is  here  observed,  —  that  those  admitted  to*- the  degrees 
called  Tessis  and  Teevil,  the  sixth  and  seventh  of  our  holy 
brotherhood,  shall  sit  in  judgment  upon  those  brought 
within  danger  of  the  cord.  You  have  heard  these  men  and 
the  accusation.  The  mysteries  of  our  order,  the  mandate 
of  our  Lord  Hassan  Sabah,  are  known  to  you.  Yet  let  me 
repeat  the  word  of  the  first  of  the  seven  Imams,  the  Lord 
Hossein  the  martyr,  as  runs  the  revered  tradition,  '  He  that 
offendeth  the  least  of  you,  let  him  wash  away  his  guilt  in 
his  own  blood.'  Therefore  I  command  that  whosoever  of 
you  may  believe  these  men  cleared  and  worthy  of  liberty, 
let  him  speak  forth;  but  whosoever  thinks  they  should 
endure  the  cord,  keep  silence.  For  speech  is  life,  and 
silence  is  death.  I  have  spoken." 

Silence  —  while  the  lamps  flickered,  flickered,  and  the 
shadows  swung  on  floor  and  walls;  and  still  the  chief  stood 
facing  the  twenty,  who  moved  not,  nor  gave  sound.  Then 
at  last  —  after  how  long !  he  spoke,  —  a  voice  as  from  the 
grave. 

"  There  is  no  word.  Let  the  law  be  fulfilled.  Judg- 
ment is  pronounced.  The  cord  !  "  The  chief  seated  him- 
self and  there  was  stillness  as  before,  until  a  distant  bell 
pealed  out,  once,  twice,  thrice,  four  times,  —  five  !  With 
noiseless  step,  the  tall  Harun  glided  from  behind  a  pillar 
and  plucked  Musa's  elbow. 

"  Doom  !  "  Harun  held  up  a  silken  noose,  plaited  tight, 
and  pointed  to  the  floor.  "  Kneel,"  he  commanded  softly ; 


398  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"you  are  Moslem,  I  grant  you  this  joy,  you  shall  not  see 
your  friends  die." 

Musa  turned  to  the  Franks.  Their  hands  were  bound, 
but  their  eyes  could  greet. 

"  Sweet  friends,"  said  he,  smiling  as  ever  in  his  gentle, 
melancholy  way,  "  we  must  part.  But  my  hope  in  Allah 
is  strong.  We  shall  meet  before  His  throne  !  " 

"  God  is  with  us  all !  "  answered  Richard.  "  He  is  very 
pitiful." 

But  Godfrey  did  not  speak.  Longsword  knew  his 
thoughts  were  not  of  Musa,  nor  of  the  tribunal,  nor  even  of 
the  shadow  of  death  ;  but  of  the  Christian  host  surprised 
by  Kerbogha,  and  of  the  Holy  City  left  in  captivity. 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  Musa  to  Harun ;  and  he  prepared 
to  kneel. 


A  tremor,  a  wind  of  the  spirit,  seemed  passing  over 
all  those  chiselled  faces.  Musa  and  all  others  heard 
music,  —  a  song,  —  quavering,  sighing,  throbbing  melody, 
wafted  down  the  long  underground  galleries  from  very 
far  away.  At  first  no  clear  word  was  borne  to  them, 
but  the  sweetest  note  Richard  in  his  life  had  heard.  Was 
the  great  change  come  so  nigh  that  one  heard  God's  white 
host  singing  ?  Musa  stood  fast.  Harun  was  rooted  also, 
the  cord  hung  limp  in  his  hand,  all  forgotten,  save  the 
wondrous  song.  Now  at  last  the  burden  came  dimly  :  — 

"  Genii  who  rule  o'er  the  tempest  and  wind, 
Peris  who  tread  where  red  coral  lies  deep, 
Show  forth  your  haunt  that  my  fleet  foot  may  find 
Where  the  cool  moss  caves  'neath  the  green  waves  sleep. 

"  Lie  they  under  the  sea  that  by  Onnuz  darkles, 
Or  the  broad  blue  bay  of  the  Golden  Isles  ? 
Or  where  breeze-loved  haven  in  far  west  sparkles, 
Alight  with  the  sun's  ne'er-vanishing  smiles  ? " 

The  voice  swelled  nearer ;  the  rhythm  was  quicker, 
measure  shorter,  words  stronger.  The  song  became  a 
prayer,  a  cry. 


HOW   RICHARD    HEARD   A   SONG  399 

.  "  Away  !  away  from  the  grief  and  jarring 
Of  this  toilsome  life  and  its  pang  I'd  be  ! 
Forgetting  earth  and  all  strife  and  warring, 
Wrap  me  away  to  the  breast  of  the  sea  ! 

'•  Wreathe  me  chaplets  with  sea-flowers  brightest, 
With  the  feath'ry  sea-mosses  make  me  dressed  ! 
Make  my  pillow  the  wind-spray  whitest ; 
Rock  me  to  sleep  on  the  storm-waves1  crest  ! " 

Was  it  day  that  was  dawning  on  each  of  those  stony 
faces  ?  Why  this  whisper ;  this  rustle  of  white  gowns ; 
this  mutter  "  Allah  !  Allah  !  "  under  the  snowy  turbans  ? 
"  Truly  God's  angels  come  !  "  Richard's  soul  cried.  He 
thought  to  see  the  vaulting  open ;  the  heavens  fleeing 
away  as  unclean.  What  angel  could  sing  of  paynim  genii 
and  peris  ?  But  the  voice  yet  approached,  ever  louder, 
clearer :  — 

"  Sing,  oh,  sing,  all  ye  fair,  pure  spirits  ! 
Spirit  I,  to  your  band  I'd  flee ; 
Blest  the  soul  who  for  aye  inherits 
To  rove  with  you  through  your  kingdom  free  ! " 

Now  the  song  was  so  near  that  all  eyes  ran  into  the 
dark  for  the  oncoming  singer,  and  every  white  robe  had 
risen  when  the  last  lines  sounded  :  — 

"  Clearer,  clearer  the  silvery  pealing 
Of  enchanted  bells  steals  my  heart  afar  ! 
Soon  I'll  see,  all  the  mists  unsealing, 
The  genii's  lord  on  his  pearl-wrought  car ! " 

Silence.  They  saw  a  light  flash  in  the  low  doorway,  saw 
it  glisten  on  jewels,  an  empress's  pride.  A  woman  en- 
tered, tall  as  a  spear,  stately  as  a  palm,  black  tresses  flow- 
ing as  a  fair  vine,  and  eyes  and  face  to  shame  the  houris. 
Around  her  bare  throat  flashed  a  great  chain  of  emeralds ; 
there  were  diamonds  and  rubies  on  her  coronet ;  gold  and 
gems  on  her  bare  brown  arms;  gold  and  gems  on  her 
sandals,  that  hid  not  the  shapely  feet.  Her  robe  was  one 
lustrous  sea  of  violet  silk,  rippling  about  her  as  she  glided, 
not  walked.  And  as  she  came,  she  spread  abroad  a  new 


400  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

melody  ;  no  words  now,  but  only  a  humming,  a  soft,  witch- 
ing note,  as  if  bidding  all  the  spirits  of  the  air  flit  at 
her  footsteps  to  do  her  behests.  Her  left  hand  upraised 
the  lamp ;  her  right  was  held  high  also,  and  on  one 
finger  flashed  something  that  doubled  the  quivering  flame 
—  a  ring  set  with  a  single  emerald. 

Onward  she  came ;  and  right  and  left  the  company 
made  way  for  her.  And  Harun  dropped  his  cord,  began 
to  mutter:  "Allah  aklibar !  The  maids  of  the  Gardens 
of  Fountains  have  come  down  to  dwell  amongst  men ! " 
But  the  stranger  —  spirit  or  woman,  who  might  say  ?  — 
came  on  till  she  stood  before  the  three  captives.  At 
the  mandate  in  her  eyes  all  other  eyes  followed  her.  No 
more  she  sang,  but  spoke,  proud  as  the  queen  of  the 
genii  legions. 

"  Hear  !  tremble !  obey !  "  She  held  the  emerald  higher. 
At  the  sight  thereof  there  was  a  new  stir,  new  whispers ; 
the  Ismaelians  were  bowing  to  the  pavement.  "  Behold 
it !  The  ring  of  Hassan  Sabah,  your  lord  !  I  say  to  you, 
whoever  shall  disobey  the  command  of  the  bearer  of  this 
ring,  be  his  merits  never  so  great,  Allah  shall  cut  him  off 
from  the  joys  of  Paradise !  Obey !  and  the  honeyed  kiss 
of  the  daughters  of  the  land  of  the  River  of  Life  is  on  your 
lips !  " 

She  swept  the  flashing  ring  to  and  fro  before  the  eyes  of 
the  cowering  twenty. 

"  Reverence  therefore  the  will  of  the  bearer  of  the  ring," 
she  ran  on ;  "  obey,  were  it  on  the  camel-driver's  finger ; 
obey  the  more,  since  it  is  on  mine,  —  I,  at  whose  word  the 
hosts  of  the  darkness  fall  trembling,  at  whose  nod  the 
troops  of  the  upper  winds  fly  obedient !  " 

Needless  her  exhortation.  One  cry  from  twenty  :  "  We 
obey !  We  are  your  slaves,  O  lady  of  Allah's  own  beauty  ! 
O  empress  of  genii  and  men  ! "  And  the  stranger,  scarce 
pausing,  rushed  on  :  — 

"  See !  your  judgment  is  false !  See,  I  am  sent  by 
Allah  to  bring  to  naught  your  desires!  I  command — I, 
the  blue-eyed  maid  of  Yemen,  whose  walk  is  with  the  stars  ! 
Release  these  captives.  Their  doom  is  unwritten." 


"ALL    BLINDLY,    HE    KNEW   THEY    WERE   MOUNTING   STAIRWAYS 


HOW  RICHARD   HEARD  A   SONG  401 

Richard  had  beheld  all  as  does  the  man  treading  in  a 
dream  ;  who  knows  he  dreams,  yet  cannot  waken.  Dream- 
ing, he  had  seen  this  strange  spirit  enter;  dreaming,  he 
heard ;  dreaming,  he  saw  a  quiver,  as  of  resistance,  pass 
round  that  ring  of  sculptured  faces ;  the  eyes  bright 
as  snakes,  and  more  pitiless,  questioned  once,  —  once  only. 
The  deliverer  shot  across  their  company  one  lightning 
glance  —  majesty,  supremacy,  scorn.  Still  dreaming,  Rich- 
ard saw  in  her  hand  a  dagger  ;  and  then  —  dreamt  he  still  ? 
—  he  felt  the  bands  upon  his  arms  sever.  He  stood  free  — 
and  Godfrey  and  Musa  free !  But  his  protectress  was 
speaking  again  :  — 

"  Behold  —  I  say  to  you,  Allah  has  cast  his'mantle  over 
these  three  to  deliver  them.  Forget  this  night.  Follow 
me  not ;  for,  as  the  Most  High  rules,  you  shall  curse  dis- 
obedience in  the  quenchless  Gehenna!  Tremble  again  — 
you  have  seen  great  things  — and  now,  farewell." 

Richard  felt  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Come,"  she  said  softly,  "  and  Allah  will  yet  aid  you  !  " 

The  chamber  of  the  tribunal,  the  semicircle  of  white 
robes,  Harun  and  the  cord  —  all  were  gone.  Richard  was 
still  in  his  dream.  He  trod  onward,  feeling  no  floor^ 
beneath  his  feet.  The  wavering  light  of  his  protectress 
went  before  him.  In  the  narrow  galleries  they  traversed, 
the  darkness  closed  after  him.  All  blindly,  he  knew  they 
were  mounting  stairways,  were  gliding  through  murky 
passages.  Suddenly  the  air  was  again  sweet ;  Richard  saw 
around  him  the  dim  vista  of  a  line  of  white  columns,  and 
above,  the  hazy  canopy  of  a  great  dome. 

The  woman  halted,  again  upraised  her  lamp. 

"  I  see  Cid  Richard  Longsword,"  said  she,  "  and  his 
good  comrades,  Cid  Musa  and  Cid  Godfrey.  If  Allah 
favor  us,  I  will  now  lead  you  to  Mary  the  Greek !  " 

At  these  words  Richard  knew  he  dreamed  no  longer ;  his 
belief  was  —  God  had  already  raised  him  to  heaven. 


2  D 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

HOW   THE    ISMAELIANS    SAW   TRENCHEFER 

THE  voice  of  Musa  recalled  the  Norman  to  the  things 
of  earth.  "  Citt,  protectress  sent  from  Allah  !  "  the  An- 
dalusian  was  crying,  "  do  my  ears  fail  ?  Is  your  voice 
strange  ?  When  have  I  heard  it  before  ?  In  Palermo  ?  " 

"  In  Palermo,"  reechoed  the  stranger,  "  in  Palermo, 
when  by  the  Most  High's  favor  I  warned  you  against 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh."  The  name  of  his  enemy  roused  all 
the  fires  in  Richard's  breast. 

"  Lead  on  !  "  boasted  he,  nigh  fiercely.  "  Lead  on  !  and 
in  the  name  of  every  saint,  Trenchefer  shall  weigh  out 
his  price  to  the  Ismaelian  to-night ! " 

His  voice  was  rising  to  a  war-cry,  when  Musa  clapped 
his  hand  on  his  friend's  mouth.  The  lady  had  upraised 
a  warning  finger ;  a  tremor  of  mingled  fear  and  wrath 
seemed  shaking  her. 

"Hist,  Cid  Richard!  Are  you  mad?  The  palace  is 
full  of  armed  men.  Safety  is  leagues  away.  And  I 
declare  to  you,  that  unless  you  swear  by  the  great  name 
of  Issa  you  worship,  to  do  Iftikhar  to-night  no  hurt,  I 
will  cry  aloud,  and  you  perish  as  surely  as  by  Harun's 
bowstring." 

"  Iftikhar  ?  "  questioned  Richard,  in  amaze.  "  Iftikhar  ? 
You  have  given  freedom  to  his  arch  foe,  and  yet  you  say 
to  me,  '  Spare '  ? " 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  lady,  gently,  "  Mary  the  Greek 
shall  tell  you  why  I  do  this.  Swear,  if  you  would  see  her 
face  —  not  die."  And,  conjured  by  that  all-potent  name, 
Richard  took  a  willing  oath ;  Godfrey  likewise,  and  Musa 
after  his  manner.  The  lady  raised  her  lamp  once  more. 

402 


HOW  THE   ISMAELIANS  SAW  TRENCHEFER     403 

"  Follow  softly,"  she  warned ;  "  many  sleep  all  about 
us.  I  must  lead  you  the  length  of  the  palace." 

Then  came  another  journey  through  the  enchanted 
darkness,  lit  only  by  the  lamp  and  the  gleam  of  the  gems 
at  the  strange  deliverer's  throat.  They  crossed  the  great 
hall,  treading  gently,  Richard's  hand  on  the  hilt  of  Trenche- 
fer,  for  nigh  he  expected  to  see  goblins  springing  from 
the  dark.  Once  across,  the  lady  halted ;  opened  a  door. 
In  the  glow  of  the  lamps  Longsword  saw  a  giant  negro 
prone  upon  the  rug,  at  his  side  a  naked  sabre.  Trenche- 
fer  crept  halfway  from  the  sheath,  as  he  turned,  unfold- 
ing his  mighty  hands.  But  their  guide  gave  him  no  heed. 
The  black  slumbered  on.  ' 

The  door  closed.  They  sped  down  a  long  gallery, 
swift  and  silent  as  flight  in  a  dream ;  another  door, 
another  guardsman.  This  time  the  negro  was  awake, 
standing  at  his  post. 

"  Now  !  "  came  between  Godfrey's  teeth ;  and  three 
swords  were  ready  to  flash.  The  lady  smiled,  sprang 
before  them.  At  sight  of  her  the  sentry  bowed  low. 

"  Habib,"  said  she,  gently,  "  these  are  they  I  said  I  would 
bring  you.  Remember  —  you  have  for  them  neither  ears 
nor  eyes." 

"  I  am  blind  and  dumb,  my  Cttt,"  was  the  answer. 

She  beckoned,  the  three  followed ;  the  guardsman  was 
lost  in  the  gloom.  "  I  begged  his  life  of  Iftikhar  a  year 
since,"  explained  the  lady,  "therefore  Habib  is  grate- 
ful." 

A  second  gallery,  an  open  arcade,  a  sight  of  the  stars 
twinkling  between  the  plumes  of  the  palm  trees,  and  the 
puff  of  the  sluggish  southern  wind.  They  came  to  a  new 
door,  where  a  lamp  burned  low.  The  door  was  open.  A 
stairway  wound  upward  lit  at  intervals  by  flickering  sconces. 
The  lady  halted. 

"  Cid  Richard,"  said  she,  "you  shall  go  up  with  me,  and 
take  your  wife  ;  let  these  two  remain  below  in  the  shadow." 

Musa  smiled  and  salaamed ;  Godfrey  laughed  in  his 
beard.  "  You  need  no  comrade  now,  fair  knight,"  said 
he  to  Richard. 


404  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

The  Norman's  step  was  on  the  stairway,  as  he  leaped 
ahead  of  the  lady.  At  last !  At  last !  That  was  all  he 
knew.  God  had  indeed  "  stopped  the  mouths  of  the  lions, 
had  quenched  the  violence  of  fire !  "  Three  steps  Richard 
had  covered  with  his  bound;  but  at  the  fourth  he  was 
frozen  fast.  A  cry,  a  cry  of  terror,  of  despairing  pain,  sped 
down  the  stairway  :  — 

"  Morgiana !     Help  me,  for  the  love  of  God  !  " 

Whose  voice  ?  Longsword  knew  it  above  ten  thousand  ; 
and  with  it  flew  others  —  curses,  howls,  cries  for  help. 

"  Hakem  dead  !  Zeyneb  bound  !  Rouse  Cid  Iftikhar  ! 
Morgiana,  —  death  to  Morgiana !  " 

Louder  the  din ;  Richard  turned  to  his  protectress  half 
fiercely  :  "  What  is  this  ?  Shall  I  go  up  ?  " 

She  had  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

"  Allah  pity  !  Allah  have  mercy  !  "  moaned  she,  quaking 
with  sobs.  "  He  fights  against  us.  Go  or  stay,  we  shall 
soon  die." 

Now  at  last  leaped  forth  Trenchefer. 

"  Follow  who  will,"  thundered  Richard  to  Godfrey  and 
Musa,  who  needed  no  bidding. 

Fast  sped  they  ;  faster,  Richard.  Had  he  wings  when  he 
mounted  the  stairway  ?  A  second  cry  of  utter  despair,  the 
rush  of  more  feet.  Longsword  saw  the  last  stair,  saw  the 
room,  many  torches  and  many  forms ;  black  eunuchs  all, 
some  clutching  at  a  struggling  woman,  some  bending  over 
a  prostrate  form,  some  standing  around  Zeyneb,  whose 
hands  were  upraised  in  malediction. 

"  Iftikhar  !  Send  for  Cid  Iftikhar !  "  he  was  raging ;  and 
every  voice  swelled  the  babel. 

But  above  them  all  pealed  the  thunder  of  the  Norman. 
What  profit  silence  now  !  "  God  wills  it.  St.  Julien  and 
Mary  Kurkuas !  " 

Eblees  leaping  from  the  cloven  rock  smote  no  greater 
terror  than  Richard  bounding  upon  the  blacks.  Arms 
some  had,  but  arms  none  used ;  for  Trenchefer  dashed 
them  down  as  the  flail  smites,  ere  one  could  raise  or 
draw.  Richard  sought  Zeyneb ;  but  the  dwarf,  the  only 
one  with  wits  enough  to  fly,  darting  through  a  door,  was 


405 

gone  into  the  darkness.  "  God  wills  it !  St.  Julien  and 
Mary  Kurkuas." 

Richard  again  flung  out  his  battle-cry ;  but  none  stood 
against  him.  He  stared  about  the  room,  saw  the  dead  form 
in  the  corner,  a  negro  dying  beside  him,  a  second  prone  by 
the  head  of  the  staircase,  the  rest  all  fled,  —  all  save  one. 

Richard  felt  his  knees  smiting  together,  and  a  darkening 
mist  veiling  his  eyes.  He  tried  to  speak ;  there  came  no 
word.  Trenchefer  fell  clanging  to  the  floor.  Something 
was  touching  him,  pressing  him.  Into  the  ringing  in  his 
ears  stole  one  name,  his  own ;  out  of  the  mist  before  his 
eyes  floated  one  face.  Then  God  gave  back  sight  and 
speech. 

"  Mine  for  life  and  for  death !  "  came  from  his  lips. 

"What  is  death  if  once  you  kiss  me!  "  flew  the  answer. 

But  neither  said  more,  nor  thought  more.  What  soul 
may  have  thoughts  in  such  an  instant !  Only  Richard 
knew  that  never  in  his  whole  life  had  Heaven  granted  him 
joy  like  this. 

Mary  was  laying  her  warm,  smooth  hands  upon  his 
shoulders.  Her  lips  were  close  to  his  own.  She  was 
speaking. 

"  Richard,  the  peril  is  very  great.  You  should  have 
fled  the  moment  Morgiana  saved  you.  For  my  sake  you 
all  have  committed  great  sin !  " 

"  And  would  you  not  thus  have  sinned  for  me  ?  "  replied 
the  Norman.  Mary  did  not  reply.  Her  own  heart  told 
that  Richard  spoke  well.  Then  she  said  softly :  — 

"  Sweet  husband,  I  will  not  be  frightened.  I  can  fear 
nothing  now.  Only  you  must  not  let  Iftikhar  possess  me 
again.  Holy  Mother  of  God!  you  must  not  let  him  regain 
me  !  "  And  Richard,  who  knew  what  she  meant  (for  when 
did  he  not  read  all  in  her  eyes  ?),  answered,  holding  out 
Trenchefer :  — 

"  Iftikhar  shall  not  regain  you.  By  the  wounds  of  Christ 
I  swear  it.  Ah,  how  Our  Lord  will  welcome  a  sweet  angel 
like  you  when  you  fly  up  to  the  gate  of  heaven ! " 

And  Mary  laughed  at  his  words,  for  many  things  had 
become  more  terrible  than  death. 


406  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

"  I  rejected  once  the  escape  of  death  as  a  sin,"  said  she, 
"but  I  know  it  will  be  no  sin  now.  What,  with  you  be- 
side, is  there  left  to  fear,  living  or  dying  ? " 

"  Living !  "  cried  the  Norman,  snatching  a  cloak  to  cast 
about  her.  "  God  will  not  suffer  the  wicked  to  torture  such 
as  you.  St.  Michael  speed  my  arm  with  all  the  strength 
of  heaven ! " 

He  had  not  seen  Godfrey  and  Musa  mounting  to  the 
chamber,  or  Morgiana  following.  He  had  not  heard  the 
tenfold  din  rising  in  the  palace  and  without.  But  now 
he  heard  a  howl  of  fury  fit  to  pass  a  demon's  lips. 

"  May  you  scorch  forever  !  "  Richard  turned.  He  saw 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  cimeter  in  hand,  springing  through  the 
doorway.  The  Ismaelian  was  without  armor ;  he  wore  the 
white  robe  of  his  order  only.  Rage  unspeakable  almost 
drowned  the  curses  in  his  throat. 

"  Die  !  Die,  both  of  you !  "  that  was  his  mad  cry.  Be- 
fore Richard  could  grasp  Trenchefer  the  Egyptian  was  on 
him,  had  torn  Mary  from  his  arms,  was  shortening  his 
weapon  to  run  him  through.  But  Longsword  needed  no 
weapon.  "  For  Mary's  sake  !  "  cried  his  soul ;  while  one 
hand  caught  Iftikhar's  sword  wrist,  the  other  clutched  the 
Ismaelian's  body.  A  struggle,  a  crash,  and  the  grand  prior 
measured  length  on  the  carpet.  Richard  bent  over  him, 
Trenchefer  in  hand.  One  thrust  through  the  body,  and 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh  would  have  passed  from  the  wrath  of 
man.  The  great  sword  was  rising  when  Morgiana  tore  at 
the  Norman's  arm.  "  Your  oath ! "  cried  she,  with  livid 
face  ;  "  spare  !  "  Longsword  paused.  "  What  is  he  to  you, 
woman  ?  "  demanded  he,  sternly. 

"  He  is  to  me  as  Mary  the  Greek  to  you,"  answered  the 
Arabian,  defiantly.  Richard  withheld  his  hand.  Iftikhar 
was  staggering  to  his  feet,  but  was  weaponless.  His  con- 
queror pointed  toward  the  doorway. 

"Fair  cavalier,"  said  he  in  Provencal,  "get  you  gone. 
For  sake  of  my  oath  to  this  woman,  I  spare  you  once. 
When  we  next  meet,  God  judge  betwixt  us." 

The  Egyptian  drew  himself  up  proudly. 

"  Do  not  deceive   yourself,  Cid  Richard.     You  will  be 


HOW  THE   ISMAELIANS  SAW  TRENCH  EFER     407 

overwhelmed  by  numbers.  Though  you  spare  me,  I  will 
not  spare  you." 

Longsword  in  turn  threw  back  his  head. 

"  Nor  do  I  ask  it.    We  owe  each  other  —  nothing.    Go !  " 

And  Iftikhar  foamed  out  of  the  room,  gone  as  suddenly 
as  he  had  entered.  There  was  silence  for  a  moment. 

"  My  friends,"  said  Richard,  "  let  us  make  haste.  Shall 
we  not  fly  ? "  Morgiana  laughed,  as  so  often,  very  scorn- 
fully. 

"  Verily  you  Franks  are  fools.  Do  you  say  '  go '  ?  Are 
you  angels  with  swords  of  fire,  that  you  can  blast  ten 
thousand  ?  Hark !  fifty  approach  the  door  by  which  we 
entered !  All  the  Ismaelians  about  El  Halebah  are 
alarmed.  Iftikhar  boasts  well;  we  are  soon  hewn  in 
pieces." 

There  was  indeed  a  din,  hundreds  of  voices,  many 
torches  shaking  and  flitting  about  the  groves,  and  coming 
nearer,  dogs  barking,  armor  clanging.  The  whole  can- 
tonment of  the  Ismaelians  was  astir  to  avenge  the  viola- 
tion of  the  palace.  Musa  had  bowed  his  head. 

"  Alas !  dear  brother,"  said  he,  after  his  gentle  manner, 
"  clearly  Allah  has  written  our  dooms !  We  pass  from 
death  to  death.  But  we  can  now  die  sword  in  hand !  " 

Then  Richard  held  up  Trenchefer,  so  that  the  reddened 
blade  glittered  in  the  lamplight. 

"This  is  no  time  to  die!"  cried  he;  "let  others  die! 
Let  us  do  the  deeds  God  has  appointed.  The  life  of  my 
wife,  the  safety  of  the  army  of  Christ,  are  at  stake,  and  with 
Our  Lord's  help  we  shall  make  our  boast  over  Iftikhar !  " 

The  others  looked  at  him.  For  the  first  time  Mary  saw 
that  mad  fire  in  his  eyes  which  once  burned  the  hour  when 
he  wrested  triumph  from  death  at  Valmont  —  a  thing  terri- 
ble to  see,  but  Mary  did  not  quail.  In  a  strange  way  the 
sight  of  him  told  her  they  were  then  not  to  die ;  for  a 
prophet  stood  before  her,  a  prophet  whose  evangel  would 
be  given  that  night  with  steel. 

Richard  surveyed  the  room.  It  was  square,  of  no  great 
size,  lighted  in  day  by  a  high  lantern.  On  his  right  de- 
scended the  stairway  to  the  arcade  of  the  palace ;  before 


408  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

him  opened  the  wide  door  that  led  down  the  dark  corridor. 
The  door  itself  was  of  wood  and  weak.  The  winding 
stairway  was  steep  and  narrow ;  one  man  could  make  good 
the  ascent  against  a  host.  But  to  defend  the  door  was 
nothing  easy.  Just  beyond  it  the  passage  widened,  mak- 
ing space  for  numbers.  Longsword  turned  to  Morgiana. 
"  Is  there  no  other  door  ? "  he  demanded. 

She  shook  her  head.  "None  that  will  open."  She  tore 
back  the  Kerman  tapestry,  and  revealed  a  solid  door  in  the 
wall,  barred  and  bolted  into  the  casement.  "This  door 
has  been  sealed  for  years ;  the  firm  wall  is  little  stronger. 
It  leads  to  another  stairway,  but  the  former  masters  of  El 
Halebah  closed  it."  Duke  Godfrey,  who  had  swept  the 
room  with  a  captain's  eye,  snorted  with  satisfaction. 

"  Good  !  "  cried  he,  "  only  two  entrances  to  defend.  By 
St.  Michael,  ih.Q  jongleurs  shall  have  some  brave  strokes  to 
sing,  before  we  are  amongst  the  angels !  " 

Mary  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  her  terrible  pro- 
tectors. Musa  had  put  off  his  despair ;  Richard  leaned  on 
Trenchef er,  a  lion  crouching  for  his  spring ;  Godfrey  — 
terror  of  the  paynims  —  pranced  up  and  down  the  door- 
way, clattering  his  great  blade,  and  calling  on  every  Moslem 
devil  to  draw  nigh  and  be  satisfied.  Mary  knew  then,  if 
never  before,  that  to  her  mighty  husband  and  his  peers 
death  was  a  very  pleasant  thing,  if  only  it  came  in  knightly 
guise.  There  was  redoubled  din  in  the  passage,  more  din 
below  the  stairway.  Richard  addressed  Musa,  "  Guard 
the  stairs,  the  Duke  and  I  can  care  for  the  door,"  and  he 
sprang  to  Godfrey's  side. 

The  Greek  threw  her  arms  about  him,  beseeching. 

"  Dear  husband,  as  you  love  me,  —  strike  once,  and  free 
me  from  Iftikhar  forever !  "  And  she  held  down  her  head. 
But  Richard  laughed,  as  St.  George  might,  crushing  his 
dragon. 

"  Yes,  by  the  splendor  of  God,  —  as  I  love  you !  —  I  will 
strike  not  once,  but  many  times ;  and  Iftikhar  shall  never 
touch  you  ! " 

He  caught  her  in  his  giant  arms,  pressed  her  to  his 
breast,  put  her  away.  "  Pray  for  us  !  "  his  words  ;  "  your 


HOW  THE   ISMAELIANS  SAW  TRENCHEFER     409 

prayers  will  outweigh  Trenchefer !  "  But  Mary  only  stared 
about  in  dread,  wishing  to  cry,  to  shout,  but  her  voice 
was  frozen.  Morgiana's  hand  plucked  her  away. 

"Back!"  commanded  the  Arabian;  "you  can  do  noth- 
ing. They  are  all  in  Allah's  hands.  Let  us  await  doom." 

Morgiana  forced  her  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  and  thrust 
her  upon  a  divan.  Mary  heard  a  thunderous  command  in 
the  voice  of  Iftikhar,  a  rush  of  many  feet,  a  clash  and 
crash  of  targets  and  sword-blades,  —  then,  in  mercy,  sight 
and  hearing  fled. 

Down  the  passage,  lit  by  wavering  lamps  and  flambeaux, 
charged  the  white-robed  Ismaelians,  the  commands  and 
curses  of  the  grand  prior  speeding  them.  Not  a  man  but 
was  a  trained  sword  hand,  and  had  been  in  the  battle  press 
a  score  of  times.  But  they  never  knew  before  how  deep 
the  Prankish  bear  could  bite.  Side  by  side  —  armed  only 
with  their  great  blades  —  Godfrey  and  Richard  met  them 
in  the  passage.  Then  came  the  rush,  the  shock.  Godfrey 
swung  to  left ;  to  right  whirled  Trenchefer.  Left  and  right, 
each  felling  his  man ;  and  cimeters  dashed  from  hands 
as  stubble,  shields  were  smitten  through  as  if  of  gauze. 
After  the  shock  came  the  recoil;  new  charge  and  new 
repulse.  The  long  Prankish  swords  hewed  down  the  Is- 
maelians before  their  short  cimeters  could  strike.  There 
were  three  corpses  before  the  door,  but  the  two  were  still 
standing.  Third  charge  —  again  flung  back  !  Iftikhar 
raged  at  his  men. 

"  Scorpions  !  Lizards  !  Will  you  let  two  men  mock  you  ? 
Is  it  thus  you  earn  Paradise  ? " 

"  We  may  fig"ht  men,  not  jinns !  "  howled  an  old  dais. 
Richard  brandished  Trenchefer. 

"  Come  you,  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  !    The  account  is  long !  " 

The  grand  prior  forced  himself  forward. 

"  It  is  long  !  "  foamed  he.  "  Eblees  pluck  me  if  it  is  not 
paid." 

"  Back,  Cid,"  pleaded  the  Ismaelians ;  "  they  have  the 
might  of  the  rebel  efreets  !  " 

"  Fools  !  "  thundered  Iftikhar,  putting  all  by ;  "  follow, 
who  dares!"  His  eye  lit  on  Morgiana  within.  "Allah 


410  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

blast  me  utterly,  wench,"  rang  his  menace,  "if  you  see  the 
dawning." 

Morgiana's  answer  was  to  tear  the  ring  from  her  finger, 
and  dash  it  in  his  face. 

"  See,  see !  You  have  cursed,  mocked,  triumphed  !  But 
I  conquer !  You  shall  possess  the  Greek,  never,  never ! " 

Iftikhar  cut  her  short  by  dashing  on  Richard  as  a  stone 
from  a  catapult.  Twice  sword  and  cimeter  clashed ; 
thrice,  and  the  Norman's  strength  dashed  through  the 
Ismaelian's  guard.  Iftikhar  fell,  but  Trenchefer  had 
turned  in  the  stroke.  He  was  not  maimed.  Ere  Richard 
could  strike  again,  the  "  devoted,"  with  a  great  cry,  flew 
after  their  chief,  to  drag  to  safety.  Godfrey  slew  one,  but 
his  body  became  the  shield.  They  plucked  Iftikhar  from 
danger.  He  stood,  blaspheming  heaven.  There  was  blood 
on  his  shoulder,  but  he  snatched  for  a  weapon. 

"  Allah  akhbar  !  "  groaned  Morgiana,  falling  on  her  face ; 
"he  is  nigh  slain!"  Richard  laughed  in  derision. 

"  Slain  ?  He  has  strength  to  kill  many  good  men  yet ; 
cursed  am  I,  that  my  wrist  turned." 

"Again!  Again!"  raged  the  grand  prior;  and  the 
"  devoted "  dashed  upon  the  two  Franks,  but  only  to  be 
flung  back  as  before.  At  the  narrow  stairway,  many 
had  tried  to  ascend;  none  had  passed  Musa,  "Sword  of 
Grenada." 

Mary  was  awaking  from  her  oblivion.  Still  the  clatter 
of  swords,  the  howl  of  the  Ismaelians,  the  loud  "  Ha ! 
St.  Michael !  "  of  the  two  Franks.  Never  had  she  loved 
Richard  Longsword  as  now,  when  she  saw  him  standing 
beside  the  great  Duke  —  the  two  o'ermatching  the  fifty. 
Heaven  was  very  near,  she  knew  it ;  but  the  vision  of 
God's  White  Throne  could  hardly  be  more  sweet  than  the 
thought  —  "  Richard  Longsword  is  doing  this  for  me,  for 
me  !  "  And  the  Norman  ?  How  changed  from  the  help- 
less ox  the  Ismaelians  had  dragged  to  slaughter !  How 
the  touch  of  warm  breath  and  soft  hair  on  his  cheek,  by  a 
great  mystery,  had  sped  the  might  of  the  paladins  through 
his  veins ! 

The   "  devoted "  renewed   the    onset.      When    Iftikhar 


HOW  THE    ISMAELIANS   SAW  TRENCHEFER     411 

sought  to  lead  them,  they  thrust  him  back.  When  the 
Prankish  swords  proved  again  too  strong,  they  brought 
lances  and  javelins.  With  darts  they  would  crush  down 
these  destroying  jinns.  But  Godfrey  plucked  up  a  low 
ebony  table,  tore  three  legs  clear,  holding  the  table-top 
by  the  fourth  before  him  as  a  shield,  and  dashed  the  other 
three  amongst  the  foe.  A  javelin  quivered  in  the  case- 
ment ;  he  tore  it  clear,  and  sped  it  clean  through  target 
and  cuirass  of  a  bold  Ismaelian.  No  more  darts  were 
flung :  to  supply  weapons  to  this  man  were  madness. 
Iftikhar  urged  yet  another  attack ;  he  was  met  by  stolidity 
and  silence. 

"Sheytans!"  howled  he,  "are  you  not _' devoted '? 
Will  you  pawn  Paradise  for  Gehenna  ?  " 

It  was  Harun  the  executioner  who  answered.  "  My 
Cid  —  sweet  is  Paradise,  but  the  journey  these  promise  is 
too  swift.  Strike  off  our  heads  at  will,  —  Allah  defends 
your  enemies." 

Iftikhar  laid  down  his  cimeter,  and  with  outstretched 
arms  approached  the  fateful  doorway.  The  two  were 
awaiting  him,  blood  on  their  cheeks,  their  hands,  their 
dress.  But  he  knew  their  strength  was  still  terrible ;  in 
their  grasp  were  those  swords,  —  those  swords  he  in  his 
arrogancy  had  left  them,  when  he  should  have  dis- 
armed. 

Richard  bowed  and  saluted  with  Trenchefer. 

"  We  are  hardly  winded,  my  lord,"  quoth  he,  though  in 
truth  his  breaths  came  fast.  "  I  reproach  the  saint  that 
ended  our  adventure  together !  " 

Iftikhar  came  a  step  nearer. 

"  De  St.  Julien,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  that  shook,  in  mere 
striving  for  calmness,  "  you  are  indeed  a  valiant  man ; 
and  you  also,  my  Lord  Godfrey.  I  honor  you,  and  cry 
against  Allah  that  we  must  meet  as  foes  not  friends.  But 
you  are  no  jinns,  though  my  cowards  bellow  it.  You  have 
wounds  both.  You  must  soon  go  down.  Ten  you  may 
slay,  but  not  hundreds.  I  make  you  a  fair  proffer  of  life 
and  honor"  —he  dropped  his  voice  —  "of  life,  honor,  and 
safety  for  the  army  of  the  Franks." 


4i a  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

Godfrey's  hand  almost  dropped  the  hilt  at  this  last ;  but 
he  answered :  — 

"  I  am  simply  companion  to  my  Lord  de  St.  Julien.  In 
this  adventure  he  leads.  Make  conditions  with  him." 

Iftikhar  faced  Richard.  "  Ride  free,  then,"  said  he ; 
"  receive  your  horses.  I  swear  it  is  not  too  late  for  your 
host  to  be  warned.  My  Ismaelians  shall  conduct  you 
through  the  net  spread  by  Kerbogha;  but  on  this  condi- 
tion —  that  you  give  back  to  me  —  "  his  voice  faltered ;  his 
eye  wandered  to  the  corner  of  the  room  within  —  "give 
back  to  me  alive  the  Star  of  the  Greeks." 

Richard  felt  as  though  dashed  by  a  thunderbolt.  Yield 
Mary  to  Iftikhar  as  price  of  his  own  life  ?  God  knew  he 
never  thought  on  that!  But  should  he  set  her  joy  and 
his  before  the  lives  of  dear  comrades,  who  had  ridden 
lightly  to  the  jaws  of  death  in  his  quarrel?  Above  all, 
should  he  peril  the  army  of  the  Cross  because  Mary  loved 
peace  in  heaven  rather  than  the  pleasures  of  El  Halebah  ? 
No  words  came  to  his  lips ;  he  turned  appealing  eyes  to 
Godfrey,  who  spoke  nothing.  But  in  the  silence  Mary 
spoke.  She  had  risen,  had  advanced  to  the  doorway. 
The  two  enemies  —  the  Egyptian,  the  Norman  —  gazed  at 
her  as  upon  a  treasure  for  which  life  were  a  trivial  price. 

"  Dear  husband,"  her  voice  came,  sweetly  as  bells 
across  the  misty  sea,  "you  know  what  you  should  say. 
God  will  avenge  me  in  His  own  time,  and  reward  me  and 
reward  Iftikhar  each  according  to  justice.  I  have  borne 
so  much,  I  can  bear  a  little  more.  You  must  save  your- 
selves, must  warn  the  army.  It  was  a  sin  to  go  to 
Aleppo ;  now  Heaven  allows  you  to  ride  away  scatheless. 
Do  not  distrust  Iftikhar ;  he  violates  no  oath." 

What  might  Richard  say  ?  His  wife  before  him  —  in 
all  her  beauty  !  To  save  her  he  would  have  felt  it  untold 
joy  to  die.  He  knew  that  she  herself  loved  death  more 
than  life  in  this  renewed  captivity.  And  yet  there  she 
stood,  pleading  —  pleading,  as  never  before,  to  be  left  to 
her  captivity.  What  might  he  do  ?  Mother  of  God,  he 
was  of  too  frail  stuff  to  answer!  But  the  great  Duke, 
whose  hand  was  the  heaviest,  whose  heart  the  purest,  in 


HOW  THE   ISMAELIANS  SAW  TRENCHEFER     413 

all  broad  France,  made  answer  for  him.  Very  gravely  he 
was  replying  to  Iftikhar. 

"  My  lord,  I  have  faith  enough  in  God  to  believe  that 
He  will  not  suffer  His  army  and  His  cause  to  perish,  be- 
cause we  withhold  this  price  —  the  agony  of  one  of  His 
angels.  Go  back  to  your  men,  my  lord.  We  shall  hold 
them  at  bay  as  long  as  He  wills.  And  rest  assured  that, 
before  they  master  us,  the  Lady  de  St.  Julien  shall  have 
granted  her,  as  she  has  prayed,  a  swift  death  at  our 
swords,  rather  than  a  slow  one  in  your  palace." 

"  Think  better,  for  the  love  of  Christ,  my  Duke ! " 
pleaded  Mary,  making  to  fall  on  her  knees.  But  Godfrey 
had  spoken  ;  and  Richard  spoke  too  and  very  gently  :  — 

"  Sweet  wife,  you  will  find  heaven  no  darksome  place. 
Please  God  I  shall  be  good  enough  sometime  to  see  you 
there."  Then  he  turned  to  Iftikhar,  his  poise  high,  his 
voice  hard.  "  Go  back,  my  lord,  uncover  the  pit,  un- 
chain the  fiends,  lead  on  your  devils  !  Yet  know  that  the 
first  foe  that  crosses  this  threshold  will  see  my  wife's  dead 
body ! " 

"  Dear  Son  of  God  !  "  cried  Mary,  "  will  you  throw  your 
lives  away?  Musa,  you  are  wise,  plead  with  them." 

But  the  Spaniard,  who  had  been  playing  a  part  equal 
to  the  others,  turned  at  his  post  by  the  stairway,  and 
salaamed  after  his  fashion. 

"  I  have  heard  my  brother  and  Cid  Godfrey.  Allah 
indeed  pity  us,  if  we  yield  the  Star  of  the  Greeks ! " 

Richard  raised  Trenchefer. 

"Now,  Iftikhar  Eddauleh !  "  commanded  he,  "again  — 
begone  !  Or,  unarmed  as  you  are,  I  kill  you  !  " 

The  Egyptian  knew  by  his  foe's  eye  it  was  no  idle 
boast;  he  knew  also  that  prayers  were  futile  upon  the 
three. 

"  Brave  cavaliers,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter  smile,  "I  can  do 
nothing  for  you.  Wonderful  are  your  Prankish  swords 
and  that  of  Cid  Musa.  But  you  shall  feel  a  cimeter  that 
will  test  their  temper,  be  it  never  so  keen." 

He  was  gone,  and  disappeared  behind  the  band  of 
Ismaelians  who  eyed  the  Franks  from  a  safe  distance 


414  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

down  the  passage.  Mary  saw  him  vanish,  and  turned 
first  to  Musa,  then  to  Godfrey,  then  to  Richard,  and  kissed 
the  first  two  on  the  forehead,  her  husband  on  the  lips. 

"  Dear  friends,"  she  said  gently,  "you  add  sin  to  sin  for 
my  sake.  The  end  cannot  be  far  away.  But  God  is  very 
near,  and  I  fear  nothing." 


CHAPTER   XXXVII 

HOW    ROLLO    CARRIED    WEIGHT 

IFTIKHAR  had  vanished.  The  Ismaelians  on  guard  had 
retreated  down  the  long  gallery.  Musa  from  his  post  de- 
clared that  only  a  few  sentries  remained  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  Morgiana,  who  had  crouched  in  silence  on  a  divan 
during  the  combat,  arose,  and  without  a  word  opened  a 
cupboard  in  the  side  of  the  wall.  She  drew  forth  a  silver 
flagon  and  cups,  proffering  each  of  the  three  combatants  a 
spiced  wine  that  sent  new  life  through  their  weariness. 
Godfrey  relieved  Musa  at  the  staircase,  and  the  Spaniard, 
going  to  the  open  window,  leaned  forth  to  espy  the  next 
move  of  Iftikhar.  In  the  starlight  he  could  only  see  the 
tracery  of  the  forest  of  palms,  and  here  and  there,  ghost- 
like, a  white  dress  flitting.  The  lamps  in  the  chamber 
were  flickering  low.  Morgiana  extinguished  most,  and 
poured  the  remaining  oil  into  two,  —  leaving  barely  enough 
light  to  break  the  gloom  in  the  vaulted  chamber.  It  had 
suddenly  become  very  still  through  the  palace.  Almost 
was  Richard  persuaded  that  the  Egyptian  by  some  magic 
had  departed  with  all  his  "devoted."  In  the  oppressive 
silence  none  tried  speech.  Mary  had  returned  to  her  post 
on  the  divan,  and  Richard  knew  she  was  sobbing,  though 
no  sound  came.  Musa  stole  noiselessly  about  the  room, 
completing  his  inspection.  Once  he  paused  at  the  sealed 
door,  and  flung  himself  against  it  —  adamant  had  scarce 
seemed  firmer.  He  came  to  Richard's  side  and  shook  his 
head.  "  Some  new  attack  is  preparing,"  was  his  whisper ; 
"  in  what  way,  Allah  alone  knows !  I  see  no  road  to 
escape." 

415 


4i6  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  The  sealed  door  ? "  asked  Longsword. 

"  The  spell  of  Solomon  has  turned  it  to  iron.  We  can 
escape  only  over  the  Ismaelians,  or  on  the  wings  of  Roc, 
the  giant  bird,  whose  back  upbears  an  army." 

"  Then  over  the  Ismaelians  be  it ! "  quoth  the  Norman, 
laughing  grimly;  and  he  added,  "Ah,  brother,  you  know 
well  my  proverb  :  '  Easier  go  through  the  wall  than  mount 
it'!" 

But  Musa  did  not  laugh  in  reply. 

"  Brother  mine,"  said  he,  "  I  think  you  and  Cid  Godfrey 
are  each  mighty  as  Jalut,  whom  you  call  'Goliath.'  But 
Iftikhar  says  well ;  you  are  no  jinns.  In  the  last  charge 
the  Ismaelians  nearly  passed  you,  and  all  would  have  been 
over." 

Richard  made  an  angry  gesture. 

"  Good,  then !  What  is  left  to  fear  ?  I  think  Trenchef er 
can  still  sting  before  his  master's  fingers  loosen."  But  his 
voice  grew  very  grave  in  turn,  —  "  Were  it  not  for  my  wife ! 
But  we  have  chosen  !  " 

"We  have  chosen,  my  brother.  Trusting  in  Allah  we 
went  to  Aleppo ;  trusting  in  Him  let  us  wait.  But  we  have 
not  struck  in  vain.  Iftikhar  shall  never  set  eyes  on  the  sor- 
row of  the  Star  of  the  Greeks."  A  cry  from  Godfrey 
brought  Musa  to  his  side. 

"  Now  by  St.  Nicholas  of  Ghent ! "  swore  the  Duke,  in 
Languedoil.  "  What  new  devil's  devisings  ?  Look,  Sir 
Musa  !  What  do  you  see  in  the  dark  ? "  He  pointed  from 
the  casement  by  the  stairs,  into  the  night. 

Musa  strained  his  eyes.  "  I  see  many  men ;  they  are 
bearing  bales,  I  think ;  perhaps  of  straw  and  grass.  They 
are  approaching  the  door  at  the  stairway."  Without  a 
word  Godfrey  caught  a  second  of  the  ebony  tables,  — noth- 
ing light,  —  raised  it  to  the  sill  —  cast  it  down.  A  great 
howl  of  pain,  and  many  curses  ;  then  the  rush  of  a  score  of 
feet  The  defenders  awaited  a  new  attack  by  the  stairs, 
where  Musa's  cimeter  had  already  sped  three ;  but  the 
Ismaelians  did  not  ascend.  They  fled  back  into  the  gloom, 
and  an  instant  later  half  a  dozen  arrows  twittered  in  at 
the  window  and  dashed  harmlessly  against  the  wall. 


HOW  ROLLO  CARRIED  WEIGHT  417 

"  Cover  the  lamps  !  "  commanded  Godfrey  ;  "  they  give 
light  to  aim."  Morgiana  hid  them  behind  a  curtain.  But 
despite  the  darkness  there  came  more  arrows,  and  yet 
more ;  in  vain  hopes  to  harm  by  a  chance  shaft. 

"  They  waste  bowstrings,"  muttered  the  Duke.  "  Lie 
close  a  little  longer!"  As  he  spoke  a  short  moan  came 
from  Mary's  divan.  Richard  quitted  guard,  and  was  beside 
her  instantly.  "  Lights !  "  ordered  he.  And  Morgiana 
brought  a  lamp,  despite  the  danger.  There  was  an  arrow 
pinning  the  Greek's  left  arm  just  below  the  elbow  to  the 
cushion,  and  the  blood  was  flowing.  Before  her  husband 
could  cry  out,  she  plucked  fourth  the  shaft  with  her  own 
hand.  There  was  no  tremor,  and  her  lips  were  firm,  though 
very  white. 

"  It  is  nothing !  "  said  she,  looking  upward.  "  Do  you  for- 
get my  wound  the  day  before  Dorylaeum  ?  "  But  Richard 
was  nigh  to  weeping  when  he  saw  the  blood. 

"  Dear  God  !  "  cried  he,  "  wilt  Thou  suffer  even  this  ?  " 

Mary  smiled.  "  Now,  by  St.  Basil,  you  almost  weep, 
while  your  own  face  is  all  wounds." 

"  And  are  not  seven  drops  of  your  blood  seven  lakes  to 
me  ? "  declared  Richard.  The  arrows  flew  past  him,  but 
he  stood  with  his  mailed  body  between  Mary  and  the  win- 
dow, until  Musa  had  made  a  bandage  of  the  tapestry  and 
Morgiana  could  hide  the  light.  Brave  were  his  wife's 
words,  and  brave  her  face,  but  Longsword  heard  her  mur- 
mur, "Sweet  Mother  of  Jesus — let  the  next  arrow  touch 
my  breast,  and  end  there  all  the  pain." 

"Ah!  little  wife,"  said  he,  when  he  kissed  her,  "I  do 
not  think  God  will  vex  you  much  longer.  Surely  He  will 
save  us  soon  for  earth,  or  for  heaven  !  " 

A  voice  was  ringing  down  the  darkened  gallery, — 
Iftikhar's  voice.  "You  Franks  and  Cid  Musa:  again, 
I  demand,  will  you  yield  the  Greek  and  go  free  ? " 

"  We  will  not !  "  thundered  Godfrey,  unhesitatingly. 

"  Bismillah  !  "  came  reply.  "  You  have  chosen.  Be- 
hold!" 

A  kettledrum  boomed  once,  twice ;  and  as  a  fresh  flight 
of  arrows  dashed  into  the  room,  suddenly  lights  darted 


4i8  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

across  the  palace  lawn  below.  A  cry  broke  from  God- 
frey :  — 

"  Fire  !  They  have  brought  straw  to  the  entrance  and 
will  so  destroy  us.  Iftikhar  is  mad  thus  to  ruin  his 
palace ! " 

Morgiana  looked  at  him  quietly. 

"  He  is  no  more  mad  than  for  many  a  day.  You  know 
little  his  passion  for  Mary.  This  wing  of  the  palace  is 
partly  severed  from  the  rest ;  but  Iftikhar  will  burn  all  El 
Halebah  to  destroy  us  !  " 

Already  below  sprang  a  crackle,  a  roar,  as  the  night 
wind  caught  the  flame.  In  a  moment  up  drifted  a  puff  of 
smoke,  a  red  glare  ever  brightening. 

"The  palace  is  marble,"  declared  Godfrey,  leaning  over 
the  parapet,  despite  the  shafts. 

"  Enough  also  of  wood  and  stucco  to  glow  like  Ge- 
henna ! "  replied  Musa,  grimly.  "  Such  is  the  manner  of 
our  palaces." 

The  smoke  blew  thicker,  the  arrows  pelted  so  rapidly 
that  even  Godfrey  was  fain  to  drop  behind  the  casement. 
There  was  another  rush  of  feet  in  the  gallery.  Richard 
bounded  to  the  door. 

"  Praised  be  St.  Michael !  "  shouted  he  ;  "  there  is  still 
food  for  Trenchefer."  But  the  Ismaelians  halted  at  a  safe 
distance ;  did  not  advance ;  only  stood  with  swinging 
cimeters,  as  if  awaiting  attack. 

"Hear  their  feet  below!"  growled  Godfrey;  "they 
bring  more  fuel !  Hark  the  roar  !  The  very  palace  burns." 

Musa  thrust  his  head  into  the  scorching  smoke  eddy. 

"  You  say  well,  Cid  Godfrey ;  we  are  in  Allah's  hands, 
and  shall  see  Him  face  to  face  full  soon  !  " 

A  crash  below  was  followed  by  a  second,  a  third.  Up 
the  stairway  shot  a  wavering  shaft  of  flame ;  the  smoke 
that  had  been  rising  to  the  vaulted  dome  began  to  sink 
and  stifle.  Richard  turned  to  Morgiana. 

"  Lady,"  he  said,  while  he  leaned  on  Trenchefer,  "  God 
may  reward  you  for  your  deed  to-night,  but  not  ourselves. 
Had  not  His  will  been  otherwise,  you  would  have  saved 
us.  You  can  do  nothing  more.  Fly  down  the  gallery." 


HOW   ROLLO   CARRIED   WEIGHT  419 

As  if  in  echo  came  Iftikhar's  voice :  — 

"  Morgiana  need  not  think  to  escape.  Verily  her  body 
shall  scorch  now,  as  her  false  soul  hereafter." 

Even  at  that  dread  moment  Richard  shuddered  at  the 
passion  the  Egyptian  struck  forth  from  Morgiana's  eyes ; 
but  her  only  answer  was  the  cry :  — 

"  Then  shall  my  curse  light  on  you  forever !  "  And  at 
that  curse,  no  blame  if  Iftikhar  trembled. 

Thicker  the  smoke,  brighter  the  glare,  higher  the  flame. 
They  felt  the  pavement  under  the  rugs  grow  warm.  Ifti- 
khar thundered  once  more :  — 

"  For  the  last  time  —  choose  life  and  freedom,  or  the 
fire!" 

Godfrey  had  leaped  beside  Richard. 

"  Ha  !  This  is  the  end  of  the  hunting.  Well,  St.  George 
aid  us,  we  will  not  be  grilled  here,  with  that  gallery  open 
and  fifty  cimeters  ready  to  speed  us  to  heaven !  " 

Richard  cast  a  look  forward,  —  behind. 

"  There  is  nothing  else !  "  said  he.  But  Trenchefer 
shook  in  his  hands,  for  Mary  was  standing  at  his  side. 

"  Dear  lord  and  husband,"  said  she,  once  more,  "  you 
have  promised.  I  know  your  arm  is  strong.  '  Let  us  go 
away  together,  —  far  away,  far  away,  —  to  the  love  and 
light  and  peace !  " 

And  she  held  down  her  head.  But  Richard  that  mo- 
ment felt  his  muscles  hard  as  bands  of  steel.  Should 
she  die,  with  him  so  strong,  with  the  might  of  the  saints 
shed  over  him  as  never  before  ?  Should  she  die,  and 
by  his  hand  ? 

"  I  wait,  dear  heart,"  she  was  saying,  "hasten !  " 

The  fire  shot  up  the  stairway  in  one  raging,  devouring 
column.  But  Trenchefer  did  not  strike. 

"  Morgiana !  "  was  Richard's  fierce  cry,  "  if  the  sealed 
door  were  shivered,  is  there  escape  ? " 

The  Arabian  had  crouched  upon  the  floor. 

"  Yes  !  "  gasped  she,  "  when  Allah  sends  a  miracle." 

"And  that  He  shall!  God  wills  it!"  and  Richard 
sent  the  Crusader's  war-cry  out  into  the  smoke  and  fire. 
The  very  shout  made  his  might  fivefold. 


420  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Through  the  smoke  he  bounded  to  the  sealed  portal, 
dashed  against  it,  a  lion  against  his  cage.  It  stood  firm  ;  but 
he  felt  the  bolts  give  way  in  their  fastenings.  A  marble 
pendant  hung  betwixt  the  windows.  He  wrenched  it 
from  its  mortar  setting,  swung  it  on  high,  and  crashed  it 
upon  the  door.  In  after  days  men  found  this  marble  in 
the  wreck  and  marvelled  at  the  might  of  the  Christians. 
At  the  first  blow  the  wood  and  iron  sprang  inwards  as  with 
a  groan.  Twice  !  —  the  stones  in  the  casement  crumbled, 
the  pivots  started.  Thrice !  —  and  before  the  iron  of  Rich- 
ard's north-sprung  strength  the  weaker  iron  of  the  door 
gave  way. 

"  God  wills  it !  "  Over  the  storm  of  fire  again  he  flung 
the  cry.  Iftikhar  had  seen — the  Ismaelians  had  seen  the 
attack  on  the  door  —  the  miracle  !  One  and  all  had  sped 
forward,  —  at  the  doorway  had  met  Godfrey  and  Musa,  and 
their  tireless  blades. 

A  crash  below ;  the  firm  floors  were  shivered ;  flames 
leaped  between.  But  the  sealed  portal  —  it  was  sealed  no 
longer !  Richard  was  back  in  the  press  at  the  other  door. 
The  marble  block  was  lifted  on  high,  and  as  it  sped  from 
his  hand  it  dashed  down  the  tall  Harun,  who  never  felt 
his  hurt.  Trenchefer  was  again  flashing  in  the  Ismaelians' 
faces.  They  drew  back,  crying:  — 

"  No  deed  of  man  !  We  may  not  fight  with  Allah ! " 
and  Iftikhar  with  them.  Three  steps  forward  leaped 
Richard  —  not  a  man  loved  death  enough  to  meet  him 
face  to  face.  The  floor  was  quaking  beneath  them. 

"  Back,  back,  for  the  love  of  Christ ! "  rang  the  shout 
of  Godfrey ;  for  Longsword  in  his  pride  would  have  charged 
them  all.  It  was  Musa  who  plucked  Mary  in  his  arms,  and 
bounded  through  the  fire.  Morgiana  flew  across  the  flame 
as  though  on  wings.  Godfrey  caught  Richard  by  an  arm, 
and  drew  him  after.  From  the  new  opening  Richard 
glanced  backward.  Red  flames  roared  betwixt  him  and 
Iftikhar.  The  wreck  before  him  held  his  gaze  as  by  en- 
chantment, but  the  others  dragged  him  away.  The  smoke 
was  eddying  after  them  into  the  new  portal ;  soon  the  fire 
would  follow.  Haste  was  still  their  sole  safety.  Before 


HOW  ROLLO   CARRIED   WEIGHT  421 

them  were  the  dimly  lighted  rooms  of  the  palace ;  and 
Morgiana  led  their  way. 

Well  that  they  had  such  guidance.  The  command  of 
Iftikhar  sounded  loudly  to  cut  off  the  fugitives  when  they 
should  come  forth.  But  Morgiana  sped  on  before  them, 
swift  as  the  flight  of  a  dream,  through  dark  galleries  and 
under  arcades  where  the  flame  glared  all  around.  They 
followed  witlessly,  not  knowing  whether  she  led  to  life  or 
death.  Suddenly,  as  if  by  magic,  the  palace  and  its  blaz- 
ing battlements  were  left  behind  them,  their  feet  trod  soft 
grass  ;  their  nostrils  drank  in  the  pure  air  ;  and  above  the 
haze  of  vapor  and  sparks  glittered  the  fairer  haze  of  the 
stars.  The  Arabian  led  them  far  on  into  the  wood. 

"  Where  were  your  horses  tethered  ?  "  demanded  Morgi- 
ana, halting. 

"  At  the  tamarisk  by  the  road  to  the  palace,"  answered 
Musa. 

"  Good,  then,"  replied  she ;  "  follow  this  shorter  path  you 
see  in  the  starlight.  Mount,  spur,  and  Allah  spread  the 
cloak  of  compassion  over  you.  I  can  do  nothing  more  !  " 

"St.  Maurice!"  swore  Richard  and  Godfrey  together, 
"  shall  we  never  reward  you  ? " 

They  could  see  Morgiana's  eyes  flash  in  the  firelight. 
"  This  will  be  reward  —  never  again  to  hear  the  name 
'  Mary  ' !  " 

Before  they  could  say  more  the  Arabian  had  flung  her  arms 
about  the  Greek,  kissed  her  once,  and  vanished  in  the  night. 

Despite  the  danger  of  pursuit,  Morgiana's  departure  for 
an  instant  broke  the  spell  of  delirium  that  had  possessed 
the  fugitives  for  the  hour.  They  were  under  the  canopy  of 
the  forest.  They  heard  the  roar  of  the  burning,  which  was 
dimmed  by  the  dense  barrier  of  the  trees.  The  chamber 
of  judgment;  the  chamber  of  battle;  the  struggle  for  life 
and  death  ;  Morgiana,  their  good  angel  —  all  had  vanished 
—  whither  !  For  a  moment  the  four  were  silent,  drinking 
deep  of  the  sweet  air,  their  hearts  stirred  by  emotion  too 
strong  for  words.  It  was  the  Spaniard  whose  wits  returned 
first. 


422  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

"  Allah  akhbar!  What  is  this,  down  the  path  ?  "  And 
his  whisper  plucked  back  the  others  to  the  world  of 
danger.  A  party  of  men  and  horses  were  coming  straight 
toward  them  from  the  palace. 

"  Now,  by  St.  George !  "  cried  the  Duke,  "  we  need  our 
prayers !  They  have  taken  horse  to  follow." 

The  hoofs  were  thundering  behind  them.  Richard  felt 
Mary  trembling  in  his  arms  with  mortal  dread.  To  have 
endured  so  much  and  to  fail  now ! 

"  Holy  Mother !  "  she  was  crying  softly,  "  are  the  horses 
far  away  ? " 

But  Richard  laughed  aloud  and  the  others  also.  Then 
he  trumpeted  through  his  hands,  and  Godfrey  and  Musa 
did  likewise.  Down  the  road  they  heard  a  stamping  and 
snapping  of  tether-ropes.  And  as  they  ran  three  great 
beasts  came  prancing  out  of  the  dark  to  meet  them  — 
Rollo  puffing  with  his  huge  mouth  in  his  master's  face. 
The  others  were  mounted  in  a  twinkling ;  but  Richard 
gazed  in  vain  for  the  Arabian  prepared  for  Mary.  There 
was  a  crash  in  the  road  not  forty  paces  away.  Over  his 
head  flew  many  arrows.  The  grip  of  his  arm  about  Mary 
tightened. 

"Little  wife,"  spoke  he,  in  her  ear,  "will  you  trust 
Rollo  ? " 

"  I  will  trust  you  !  "  came  the  answer. 

No  other  way ;  with  his  right  hand  Richard  gripped  the 
pommel  and  leaped  with  his  burden.  And  at  the  press  of 
weight,  Rollo  gave  a  long  leap  forward,  as  close  upon  them 
in  pursuit  swung  another,  a  rider  on  a  tall  horse;  behind  him, 
a  mass  of  dark  forms,  sparks  striking  from  the  flying  hoofs. 

Richard  felt  his  wife  shrink  closer  to  him,  and  above 
the  yell  of  the  Ismaelians  heard  her  cry :  — 

"  Carry  us  safe,  dear  Rollo,  for  the  love  of  Christ !  The 
need  is  great !  " 

Iftikhar  was  breasting  them,  on  a  steed  the  pride  of 
El  Halebah's  stables.  The  Ismaelian  drew  bow,  and  sent 
a  shaft  crashing  against  them.  The  leathern  saddle-flap 
turned  it,  and  Richard  taunted :  "  Truly  you  love  the 
Greek  !  Will  you  strike  her  ?  " 


HOW   ROLLO   CARRIED   WEIGHT  423 

"  Better  dead  than  yours !  "  came  back,  and  with  it  a 
second  arrow,  against  Longsword's  shoulder.  He  reeled, 
but  the  Valencia  mail  was  not  faithless.  Tightening  his 
grasp,  Richard  swung  Mary  so  that  his  own  body  was 
between  her  and  the  Egyptian.  He  drew  Trenchefer. 
Rollo  needed  no  bridle.  At  touch  of  the  knee,  the  beast 
swerved  so  suddenly  that  Iftikhar's  mount  was  nigh  over- 
ridden. Before  the  Egyptian  could  cast  away  the  bow 
and  draw,  the  Christian  sword  fell.  The  Ismaelian  barely 
shunned  it.  Not  so  his  horse ;  for  the  good  sword  cleft 
through  the  saddle  and  severed  the  spine.  Iftikhar  went 
down  with  his  falling  steed,  while  Rollo  tossed  out  his 
heels  and  flew  onward. 

But  a  precious  moment  had  sped,  brief  though  the 
encounter.  Almost  as  Iftikhar  fell,  the  Ismaelian  band 
closed  upon  his  conqueror.  The  dawn  was  strength- 
ening. Richard  could  see  the  foe  about  him  —  dark 
Syrians,  white-robed,  with  crooked  bows,  cimeters,  and 
brass-studded  targets.  They  raised  a  mighty  yell  as  they 
saw  the  prey  they  had  tracked  so  long  locked,  seemingly, 
in  their  hands.  A  thousand  marks  Longsword  would  have 
pledged  for  his  good  target  to  cast  behind  Mary ;  but  his 
own  body  was  the  living  shield.  No  place  this,  to  swing 
Trenchefer  now.  Speed,  the  speed  of  Rollo,  —  in  that  and 
in  Our  Lady  he  trusted. 

"Bismilutkt  Glory  to  Allah!  The  Christian  jinn  is 
taken  !  "  roared  the  foremost  Ismaelians,  with  their  scream- 
ing arrows.  One  shaft  home,  and  Rollo  was  crippled.  But 
he,  great  brute,  was  wiser  than  many  men.  He  needed 
no  word,  no  spur.  Close  to  the  ground,  after  his  wont,  he 
dropped  his  muzzle.  Then  when  he  felt  the  reins  slack  on 
his  neck  and  Richard's  fingers  gently  combing  his  mane,  he 
struck  out  in  a  stretch  no  steed  of  Pars  or  Khorassan  could 
outpace.  Two  bounds,  it  seemed,  plucked  him  out  of  that 
circle  of  death ;  with  the  long  way  clear,  and  the  press  be- 
hind. Through  eyes  half  opened,  Mary  saw  hills,  rocks, 
trees,  speeding  past  under  the  pale  light,  as  though  runners 
in  a  race.  They  had  left  the  green  wood ;  were  on  the 
highroad,  flying  westward.  Eastward,  behind  the  howling 


424  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

pack,  all  the  sky  was  bright,  but  not  all  the  glow  was 
from  the  dawning.  A  tower  of  fire  was  leaping  toward 
heaven.  All  the  groves  were  traced  darkly  against  the 
red  glare,  but  faded  swiftly  as  Rollo  thundered  west- 
ward. 

Arrows,  or  what  she  deemed  arrows,  were  whistling 
past  her  head.  There  were  a  score  of  mad  voices  close 
behind  :  "  Shoot !  Slay !  Strike  the  horse !  The  grand 
prior's  houri !  A  great  reward  !  " 

Then  more  arrows ;  but  it  was  nothing  easy  to  send  a 
shaft  from  a  plunging  saddle  into  the  dimness,  and  strike 
a  dragon  flying  as  Rollo  flew.  She  heard  Iftikhar  shout 
once  more  —  the  fall  had  not  harmed  him,  for  he  was 
again  mounted  —  "To  every  man  a  hundred  dirhems,  if 
you  bring  down  the  horse ! " 

Her  fear  had  become  overmastering  now.  She  was 
frightened  as  a  little  child.  Her  face  was  very  close  to 
her  husband's.  Despite  the  pace,  she  spoke. 

"  Richard,  do  not  forget.  You  have  promised.  Strike, 
before  too  late." 

The  other's  answer  was  a  glance  behind  into  the  half- 
light.  Mother  of  Pity,  how  close  the  infidels  were  !  Then 
he  bent  forward,  and  spoke  to  Rollo,  —  not  in  Greek, 
Arabic,  or  Provensal,  but  in  his  own  Norman  French. 

"  On,  my  horse  ;  on,  my  sweet  swallow  !  Will  you  be  run 
to  death  like  a  fawn  ?  Shall  the  paynims  say,  '  There  are  no 
steeds  like  the  steeds  of  the  East  ? '  Remember  your  glory, 
my  Rollo  !  Remember  the  lists  at  Palermo !  How  you 
outpaced  the  winds  at  Dorylaeum.  And  the  brave  days 
at  Antioch,  gone  by !  And  will  you  now  fail,  swiftest  of 
the  destrers  of  France  ?  " 

Did  the  black  brute  understand  ?  Did  he  know  that  he 
had  been  born  and  bred,  that  for  those  few  moments, 
double-mounted  as  he  was,  he  should  speed  swifter,  ever 
swifter,  beyond  range  of  those  shafts  whereof  one  must 
soon  strike  home  ? 

But  the  Ismaelians  saw,  and  Iftikhar  saw,  who  cursed  his 
men  by  every  sheytan,  vowing  stake  and  torment  if  they 
failed.  Longsword  still  urged  :  — 


HOW  ROLLO   CARRIED  WEIGHT  425 

"  Onward  !  Onward !  the  jongleurs  sing  of  Ogier's 
Broiefort,  of  Bayard  the  fleet  steed  of  Renaud,  but  swiftest 
of  all  shall  they  set  Rollo  bearing  master  and  lady,  cast- 
ing shame  on  the  beasts  of  the  Moslems.  Bravely  done, 
yet  faster !  Faster,  and  faster  yet !  See,  the  arrows  are 
falling  short !  Hear,  —  they  curse .  and  call  on  their 
Prophet  vainly  for  aid.  On,  Rollo ;  as  I  feel  your  stride,  I 
grow  proud,  yet  you  can  make  it  longer.  On,  Rollo ; 
another  such  shaft,  our  riding  is  ended !  On,  Rollo  ;  you 
bear  rarer  than  gold  in  the  saddle  now  !  On,  Rollo ; 
God  loves  a  good  horse's  speed.  They  shall  deck  you  in 
ribbons,  my  Rollo,  and  Herbert  shall  kiss  your  dear  black 
lips  when  I  tell  the  tale.  All  the  Julieners  shall  be 
glad ;  in  old  age  they  shall  say,  '  No  steed  now  like  to 
Rollo,  the  great  horse  of  our  seigneur.'  " 

And  Rollo  ?  Long  had  been  his  stride,  longer  now ; 
swift,  swifter  now.  No  reed-limbed  southern-born  he ; 
spaniel-sleek,  and  spaniel-tender.  Where  the  road  was 
rough,  his  great  hoof  bit  out  the  rock  and  sent  it  flying ; 
where  smooth,  the  Ismaelians  saw  no  wings,  but  they  saw 
his  flight.  Godfrey  and  Musa  led  the  chase,  but  not  as 
Rollo.  No  arrows  for  them ;  the  pursuers  knew  their 
prey.  The  eyes  of  the  Ismaelians'  steeds  were  blood- 
shot, bits  foaming  ;  arrow  after  arrow  sped,  —  fell  shorter. 
Mary  saw  yawning  before  them  a  wide  gully,  cut  deep 
by  the  spring  torrent.  Life  —  death  —  flashed  up  in  an 
instant.  She  felt  Rollo  draw  his  huge  limbs  together, — 
a  bound,  and  cleared  ;  a  safe  recovery ;  the  horse  ran  on. 
Godfrey  passed  safely.  Musa's  charger  stumbled,  but 
reined  up  dexterously,  recovered,  flew  on.  The  Ismaelians 
struck  the  gully  together;  two  leaders  went  down,  were 
trampled  out  in  a  breath,  horse  and  man.  The  rest 
still  spurred  after.  But  Richard,  as  he  counted  the  ells 
betwixt  him  and  the  black  mass  of  the  pursuit,  saw  the 
patch  of  dark  road  widening  slowly,  but  surely.  More 
arrows  now ;  when  these  flew  very  wide,  a  single  rider 
shot  ahead  of  the  rest.  In  the  brightening  dawn  Richard 
saw  the  pursuer  prodding  with  a  dmeter-point  to  add  to 
the  spur  sting. 


426  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Again  Richard  put  his  head  close  to  his  steed's  ear. 
"  Faster  again,  my  Rollo  ;  faster  yet,  I  say  !  Only  a  little 
more.  Iftikhar  pricks  cruelly  now,  cruelly.  When  did 
I  that,  to  give  you  speed?  Ha,  we  are  better  friends! 
You  are  winning  a  great  race  —  are  heading  the  fleetest 
steeds  of  Fars,  of  Khorassan.  You  are  winning !  I  grow 
more  proud  —  proud  of  Rollo,  king  of  the  destrers  of 
France !  " 

The  answer  was  a  final  burst  of  speed,  and  Richard  knew 
he  had  never  ridden  so  before.  Iftikhar's  men  vainly  strove 
to  keep  pace  with  their  leader ;  one  after  another  goaded, 
dashed  forward,  dropped  from  the  chase.  Musa's  peerless 
Arabian,  Godfrey's  Marchegai  ran  neck  to  neck  behind 
Rollo,  but  they  bore  no  double  burden.  Richard's  heart 
went  with  his  eyes  when  he  saw  the  last  effort  of  the  pur- 
suit. For  a  moment  the  space  betwixt  pursued  and  pursuers 
lessened,  —  but  only  for  a  moment.  Then  the  precious 
stretch  of  road  grew  wider,  ever  wider.  There  came  a 
moment  when  even  the  steeds  of  El  Halebah  could  do  no 
more.  Iftikhar  still  led ;  but  he  was  not  mad  enough  to 
pursue  alone  three  such  spirits.  Richard  heard  his  last 
curse  of  bootless  rage.  There  was  a  last  vain  flight  of 
arrows :  one  chance  shaft  whirled  past  Rollo's  ear ;  the 
blood  was  started.  That  was  all.  Musa  waved  his  cime- 
ter  as  a  parting  defiance.  The  Ismaelians  had  halted.  For 
the  first  time  Mary  and  Richard  had  eyes  for  other  things 
than  the  flying  Rollo.  They  saw  and  marvelled  that  the 
darkness  had  gone.  The  sun  had  risen  and  was  hanging  a 
ball  of  red  gold  on  the  eastern  horizon.  Aleppo,  El  Hale- 
bah, and  its  gardens  had  vanished,  as  though  but  a  vision  of 
the  night.  All  about  were  the  rolling,  arid  Syrian  fields. 

When  Iftikhar  returned  to  El  Halebah,  the  fire  had 
utterly  destroyed  the  wing  of  the  palace  containing  the 
harem.  Only  through  desperate  efforts  by  the  Ismaelians 
who  had  not  joined  in  the  pursuit  was  the  remainder  of  the 
building  saved.  The  grand  prior's  first  act  was  to  order 
search  to  be  made  for  Morgiana.  The  "  devoted  "  failed  in 
their  quest  as  completely  as  in  the  chase  of  the  fugitives. 


HOW  ROLLO   CARRIED   WEIGHT  427 

The  Arab  seemed  to  have  bidden  the  rock  open  and  receive 
her.  Breathing  forth  his  vows  of  vengeance,  Iftikhar  had 
retired  for  the  evening,  before  riding  to  join  Kerbogha ;  but 
Zeyneb  wandered  from  the  half-wrecked  palace  into  the 
gardens.  He  was  alone  in  one  of  the  remotest  glades,  when 
of  a  sudden  his  arm  was  plucked,  and  glancing  about  he 
beheld  in  the  dimness  the  face  of  Morgiana.  Where  she 
had  hidden,  he  did  not  know  nor  did  she  tell.  He  tried 
to  shout ;  she  plucked  his  throat  as  fiercely  as  on  the  previ- 
ous night  when  she  had  mastered  him. 

"Ya,"  he  heard  her  demand;  "will  you  call  the  'de- 
voted '  ?  Will  you  deliver  me  up  to  Iftikhar  ? " 

"  He  swears  he  will  have  you  flayed  alive,"  gasped  the 
dwarf ;  "  why  should  I  save  you  after  what  you  have  done 
to  me  ? " 

"  Why  ?  "  laughed  Morgiana.  "  Listen,  Zeyneb.  Did 
Hakem  awake  after  I  cut  his  throat  ?  What  hindered  me 
to  do  the  like  to  you." 

Zeyneb  hung  his  head.  "  It  is  true,"  he  confessed ; 
"you  spared  me." 

"  I  spared  you,"  she  reechoed,  laughing  after  her  un- 
earthly manner,  "not  through  love  —  Allah  forbid!  —  but 
because  you  were  my  foster-brother,  and  faithful  to  Iftikhar. 
The  Greek  is  gone  —  gone  forever  —  praised  be  the  Most 
High  !  Iftikhar  in  his  mad  pride  will  go  to  Antioch,  where 
—  and  the  omens  of  the  smoke  never  lie  —  only  woe  awaits. 
He  casts  me  away,  but  I  will  not  leave  him.  He  curses ; 
I  will  never  forsake.  I  am  strong,  I  can  yet  save." 

"Allah!"  cried  the  dwarf  —  her  spell  once  more  over 
him  —  "  what  do  you  desire  ?  " 

"  That  you  aid  me  to  go  to  Antioch.  You  have  means 
and  wits.  Then,  unknown  to  him,  I  shall  be  at  Iftikhar's 
side,  to  stand  betwixt  him  and  the  danger." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

HOW   RICHARD   AND    MUSA   AGAIN    PARTED 

ROLLO  had  dropped  to  a  slower  pace ;  at  last  had  halted. 
Richard  had  set  Mary  down  on  a  grassy  hummock  and 
gone  back  to  his  steed.  The  great  beast  was  reeking  with 
sweat,  panting  in  strong  gusts  such  as  blow  from  a  smithy's 
bellows.  Richard  plucked  off  his  outer  mantle  —  long 
since  tattered  —  and  rubbed  the  steaming  flanks  and  back 
of  the  brute ;  while  all  the  time  he  patted  him,  and  praised 
him  for  having  done  a  deed  right  worthy  of  a  Christian 
destrer  pacing  the  steeds  of  the  unbelievers.  But  it  was 
Mary  who  rose,  and  put  her  fair  white  arms  round  black 
Rollo's  neck,  and  her  cheek  against  the  white  spot  on  his 
forehead. 

"  Ah !  dear  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  said  she,  "  if  there  be 
indeed  a  heaven  where  good  horses  go,  surely  our  Rollo 
will  be  there,  a  very  angel !  " 

Richard  laughed  merrily,  when  he  imagined  the  huge 
brute  duly  decked  with  halo  and  with  wings.  But  Rollo, 
sensible  fellow,  who  knew  that  he  had  only  done  his  duty 
as  became  an  honest  horse,  sniffed  for  water,  found  none, 
and  then  began  to  munch  the  thorny  wayside  thistles 
with  as  much  relish  as  might  a  desert  camel.  Musa  and 
Godfrey  had  dismounted,  and  were  praising  their  steeds 
also.  Well  they  deserved  it,  but  neither  had  borne  the 
burden  of  Rollo,  or  run  as  did  he.  When  Richard  turned 
once  more  to  Mary,  she  gave  a  great  cry. 

"  Mother  of  Sorrows,"  began  the  knight,  "  were  you 
wounded  ? " 

"  I !  "  the  'Greek  was  saying.  "  They  have  nigh  slain 
you  !  You  have  a  hundred  wounds  !  " 

428 


HOW   RICHARD   AND   MUSA   AGAIN   PARTED     429 

In  truth  Longsword  was  no  pretty  sight.  For  one  could 
not  fight  and  ride  a  night  long,  and  not  have  bloody 
cheeks,  bloody  hands,  and  a  cut  on  the  right  thigh  where 
a  cimeter  had  brushed  away  the  Valencia  mail.  Richard 
wiped  it  off  as  best  he  could. 

"It  is  nothing!"  protested  he,  gayly;  "ten  times  have 
I  bled-  worse,  and  never  been  the  sadder,  —  at  Dorylaeum, 
and  time  and  again  about  Antioch." 

"Ah,  Richard,"  said  she,  "some  day  it  may  befall  that 
if  not  you,  another  will  be  sadder  if  you  risk  your  dear  life 
lightly." 

"  And  why  not  risk  it,  when  I  deemed  you  were  worse 
than  dead  to  me  ?  " 

Mary  lifted  her  face.  "  But  I  am  not  dead,  sweet  hus- 
band ;  for  my  sake  do  not  throw  your  life  away.  Above 
all,  swear  you  will  shun  to  meet  Iftikhar.  He  is  a  terrible 
man." 

But  the  Norman  shook  his  head.  "  Dear  life  —  say  to 
me  '  Pluck  me  down  three  stars/  and  I  will  try  ;  but  avoid 
Iftikhar  I  cannot.  God  created  us  both ;  but  not  a  world 
large  enough  to  hold  us  both.  Yet  do  not  fear." 

"Ah  !  Richard,"  said  she,  smiling  in  turn,  "you  also  are 
a  terrible  man  as  well  as  Iftikhar.  I  tremble  when  I  think 
I  have  the  love  of  beings  so  grand,  so  valorous,  as  you.  I 
know  my  love  and  my  pain  stand  often  but  one  step  apart. 
But  I  have  chosen  you.  And  you  must  play  your  game, 
and  —  when  God  wills  —  die  your  death  in  your  own  way  ; 
while  I  will  love  and  trust  you  to  the  end." 

Though  his  face  was  bleeding,  she  kissed  him. 

"  I  am  a  cavalier's  daughter,  and  a  cavalier's  wife,"  said 
she,  more  lightly ;  "  red  wine  and  white  must  be  alike  to 
me." 

Then  Musa  and  Godfrey  came  up,  courteously  asking  if 
the  lady  was  well,  and  heaping  praise  on  Rollo. 

"  There  lies  a  ravine  with  a  sweet  spring,  beyond  the  next 
hillock,"  said  Musa,  who  never  forgot  a  road  once  travelled. 
"  Let  us  ride  thither.  From  its  crest  we  can  command  a 
wide  view,  if  any  party  approaches.  Let  us  rest  a  little  — 
the  Star  of  the  Greeks  slept  none  too  much  last  night." 


430  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Mary  pouted  at  the  suggestion  that  they  must  wait  for 
her  alone.  But  in  truth  the  horses  sadly  needed  a  halt. 
Richard  knew  Godfrey's  heart  was  in  the  camp  at  Antioch, 
lying  unwarned  of  the  impending  danger.  But  even  his 
Marchegai  walked  wearily  as  they  climbed  the  little  hill. 
The  sun  was  fast  mounting  upward,  promising  a  clear,  hot 
day.  Beyond  the  hillock,  as  the  Spaniard  had  said,  was  a 
deep,  cool  ravine,  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  dry  grass  and 
thistle,  where  a  little  spring  bubbled  from  the  limestone, 
and  threaded  down  a  rocky  bed.  Over  all  swayed  a  few 
aged  cypresses,  an  oleander  thicket,  ferns,  and  the  twining 
wild  vine.  Here  they  drank  till  thirst  was  ended.  Then 
while  the  three  horses  nibbled  the  grass,  Richard  found 
bread,  and  cheese,  and  broken  meat  in  the  saddle-bags, 
and  they  had  their  feast.  That  ended,  the  men  saw  the 
eyes  of  the  Greek  were  very  heavy,  though  she  vowed  she 
was  not  weary. 

"  No  fear,  dear  lady,"  quoth  Musa.  "  As  we  watch,  not 
a  crow  can  fly  within  a  league  without  our  seeing.  It  is 
safest  to  ride  by  night.  Let  me  stand  sentry  for  a  time  ; 
then  I  will  rouse  Richard,  and  Lord  Godfrey  shall  relieve  in 
turn."  So,  having  resaddled  the  horses,  and  prepared  for 
instant  flight,  he  took  his  cimeter  and  climbed  to  the  sum- 
mit. Godfrey  cast  himself  beneath  a  cypress,  and  his 
snoring  soon  told  its  story.  Mary's  eyes  were  scarcely 
peeping  now. 

"  Come,  my  Lord  Baron,"  said  she,  smiling  drowsily  ; 
"  let  your  little  wife  fall  asleep  with  her  head  in  your  lap." 

And  lying  under  the  spreading  trees,  she  did  as  she 
wished ;  for  how  could  Richard  refuse  her  ?  She  cast  a 
last  look  into  his  face. 

"  How  you  have  changed  !  How  fierce  your  great  beard 
makes  you !  You  will  be  more  marked  with  scars  than 
your  father.  Once  I  thought  the  only  man  I  could  love 
must  be  a  beautiful  youth  like  the  Apollo  of  Scopas  in  our 
Constantinople  home.  How  different !  I  ought  to  fear 
you,  as  all  men  fear  you.  But  I  do  not  —  do  not.  For  you 
are  —  Richard." 

The  last  words  had  come  very  slowly;  there  came  no 


HOW  RICHARD  AND   MUSA  AGAIN   PARTED     431 

more.  There  was  a  little  flutter  of  her  breast  and  lips 
when  she  turned  in  her  sleep.  Richard  sat  a  long  time ; 
his  hands  —  great  clumsy  hands  —  now  on  her  hair,  now 
on  her  forehead,  now  on  her  neck.  What  had  he  done  so 
pleasing  to  Heaven  that  he  had  been  possessed  of  this  —  of 
this!  The  events  of  the  past  night  buzzed  about  him  — 
the  shadow  of  death  in  so  many  forms  !  —  how  unreal  the 
horrors  seemed  as  they  flitted  by  !  He  knew  he  ought  to 
lay  Mary's  head  upon  the  grass  and  relieve  Musa's  watch. 
But  his  eyes  also  were  very  heavy.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  disturb  that  crown  of  hair.  The  ravine  and  the 
trees  grew  dim.  At  last  Richard  thought  he  was  back 
in  St.  Julien  a-hunting,  only  the  dogs  were  pulling  down 
Harun,  the  Ismaelian,  in  place  of  a  stag.  This  also  passed 
away ;  he  seemed  drifting  onward,  onward,  —  until  he 
heard  a  voice  close  by  :  — 

"  Wallah  !  How  beautiful  she  is,  and  how  she  loves 
him !  " 

Richard  raised  his  head.  Musa  was  standing  beside 
him ;  the  sunbeams  were  slanting  from  the  west. 

"  Holy  cross  !  "  exclaimed  the  Norman  ;  "  the  day  is 
sped.  I  have  slept  through  all.  And  Duke  Godfrey  ? " 
Musa  smiled. 

"  Look  ! "  The  good  Duke  was  still  in  the  sleep  of  the 
righteous. 

"  You  have  been  sole  sentinel.  Why  did  you  not  wake 
us  ?  "  cried  Richard.  Musa  again  laughed. 

"  If  I  can  wield  no  cudgels  of  marble,  I  have  a  manner 
of  strength.  Many  a  night  long  at  Cordova  I  have  counted 
the  hours  over  my  books.  My  fellows  said,  '  Musa  is  like 
Allah;  he  never  sleeps.'  No  foe  in  sight;  no  need  of 
haste." 

There  was  a  stir  on  Richard's  lap ;  the  long  lashes 
unclosed. 

"  Have  I  slept  very  long  ? "  said  the  Greek,  with  a  pretty 
sigh. 

"  None  too  long,"  answered  the  Spaniard.  "  I  have 
made  bow  and  arrows,  and  killed  two  desert  partridges. 
Let  us  sup  and  be  off." 


432  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

Godfrey  awoke  and  cursed  the  devil  that  made  him 
sleepy.  Musa  had  made  a  fire.  They  ate  with  a  relish. 
Then  Richard  swung  his  wife  into  the  saddle,  and  Rollo 
pranced  gleefully  as  he  took  the  road  with  his  precious 
burden.  They  rode  steadily  until  far  into  the  night,  meet- 
ing no  one ;  then  halted,  resting  on  the  dry  grass  until  the 
moon  had  risen  and  lit  the  way.  As  they  galloped  onward, 
once  or  twice  they  thought  they  heard  hoof-beats  and  saw 
distant  objects  moving;  but  nothing  came  close  to  threaten. 
The  sun  had  but  just  risen  when  they  climbed  a  command- 
ing height  east  of  the  Orontes,  where  the  fair  valley,  spread- 
ing down  to  Antioch,  lay  full  in  view.  Godfrey  was  leading, 
when  Richard  saw  him  rein  Marchegai  short,  and  heard  a 
bitter  cry.  "  God  Himself  is  leagued  against  us  !  " 

Below  the  whole  plain  was  covered  with  the  squadrons 
of  a  countless  host ! 

From  their  hilltop  they  could  view  the  strange  army  in 
its  fulness.  Near  by,  a  squadron  of  light  horsemen  were 
speeding,  their  arms  flashing  under  the  brightening  sun. 
Farther  on  a  brown  line  was  winding  —  small  as  of  creep- 
ing ants ;  but  Longsword  knew  he  beheld  footmen  on  the 
march,  and  their  numbers  were  thousands.  Perched  on  a 
knoll  in  the  hills  were  gay  pavilions,  and  above  them  glit- 
tered a  sultan's  twin  banners,  silver  and  gold.  Beyond  them 
was  a  second  pair,  enringed  by  other  tents ;  beyond  these 
a  third,  a  fourth  ;  and  the  eye  grew  weary  counting  the 
companies.  Iftikhar  had  indeed  boasted  well — Kerbogha 
and  all  the  might  of  the  East  was  moving  to  the  succor  of 
Antioch.  God  alone  knew  if  the  Christian  host  would 
be  warned  in  time !  The  Norman  brushed  his  hand 
across  his  eyes,  as  if  to  dispel  this  ill-fraught  vision.  But 
vision  it  was  not.  The  innumerable  host,  the  marching 
columns,  the  sultans'  and  emirs'  encampments,  still  were 
there. 

For  a  moment  all  were  dumb.     Musa  spoke  first. 

"  As  the  Most  High  lives,  this  is  a  magician's  work !  " 

Godfrey  only  smiled  gravely. 

"  No,  fair  sir,   it  is  the  army  of  Kerbogha.      When  I 


HOW   RICHARD   AND   MUSA   AGAIN    PARTED     433 

quitted  camp,  we  hoped  he  was  still  delaying  before  Edessa. 
But  come  he  has,  and  unless  I  greatly  fail,  there  are  none 
in  the  army  that  dream  he  is  so  near." 

"  So  near,  and  not  discovered  ? "  demanded  Longsword. 
The  Duke  laughed  wearily.  "  Even  you,  De  St.  Julien, 
do  not  know  how  feeble  has  been  our  scouting.  From  the 
lowlands  about  Antioch  we  can  see  little  of  this  host ; 
only  a  few  advance  squadrons  that  will  retire  when 
charged.  I  greatly  fear  —  " 

But  Richard  interposed  :  "That  the  Army  of  the  Cross 
is  near  surprise,  as  Iftikhar  vaunted.  But  are  not  Christ 
and  Our  Lady  still  with  us  ?  Has  God  ceased  to  hear 
prayer? " 

The  elder  knight  crossed  himself.  "  It  is  true,  fair  sir, 
our  faith  is  very  weak.  We  are  still  stronger  than  ten  thou- 
sand thousand  paynims!  "  Then  he  turned  almost  fiercely 
upon  Musa.  "  And  you,  Sir  Infidel,  is  your  heart  with  this 
army  and  its  purpose  ?  They  are  of  your  own  faith.  Do 
you  wish  them  well?" 

Musa  shook  his  head  thoughtfully:  — 

"They  fight  not  for  Islam,  but  for  their  own  dark  ends. 
Can  any  good  thing  come  from  Kerbogha,  Iftikhar's  ally  ? 
I  serve  the  kalif  of  Egypt,  not  the  emir  of  Mosul." 

They  said  no  more.  What  was  left  to  say  ?  The  hopes 
of  a  day  had  been  blasted  in  an  instant.  Seemingly  the 
army  of  the  emir  lay  directly  across  their  road  to  the  city. 
As  the  hilltop  was  exposed  to  view,  they  retired  behind 
to  where  a  tiny  brooklet  started  amid  a  clump  of  date 
palms.  And  well  they  did,  for  as  they  drew  rein  came 
a  click  and  canter,  and  a  single  Arab  horseman  whirled 
down  the  hill  slope,  thinking  least  of  all  to  meet  an  enemy. 
Before  any  knew  it,  he  was  face  to  face  with  them, 
had  halted  with  a  yell,  stared  once,  turned  to  fly ;  but 
Godfrey  had  touched  Marchegai,  and  he  bounded  beside 
the  Arab,  whom  the  Duke  unsaddled  before  he  could 
draw  cimeter.  Richard  ran  to  him,  as  also  Musa.  So 
they  held  the  prisoner  fast,  and  led  him  to  the  brooklet, 
nipping  his  throat  tightly  to  choke  an  outcry.  Then, 
when  the  horse  also  had  been  taken,  and  his  captors  had  him 


434  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

on  his  back,  Godfrey  held  a  dagger  at  his  throat  to  give 
good  reason  for  talking  softly.  The  rascal  whined  pite- 
ously  to  be  killed  without  torture ;  for,  he  moaned,  the 
Franks  were  wont  to  broil  prisoners  alive  for  eating. 

"  Stop  croaking,  frog,"  commanded  Longsword,  fiercely. 
"  Only  as  you  speak  truly,  may  you  keep  a  whole  windpipe  ; 
—  if  not  —  The  silence  was  the  most  terrible  threat.  So 
the  wretch  told  a  story  that  seemed  likely  enough.  He  was 
a  light  rider  serving  with  Dekak  of  Damascus.  Kerbogha's 
host  had  advanced  from  Edessa,  constantly  swelling  in  num- 
bers. There  were  twenty-eight  emirs  from  Syria  and  Meso- 
potamia with  him ;  Kilidge  Arslan,  burning  to  avenge  the 
defeat  at  Dorylaeum,  the  former  emir  of  Jerusalem,  and 
many  princes  more  had  led  their  myriads.  The  army  had 
solemnly  sworn  by  the  beard  of  the  Prophet  to  leave  not 
one  Christian  to  return  to  Frankland  to  tell  the  tale.  They 
had  advanced  by  stealthy  marches  from  Afrin,  and  were 
now  within  a  few  leagues  of  Antioch  itself ;  but  to  the 
prisoner's  best  knowledge  the  Christians  had  not  discovered 
them.  Then  came  an  astonishing  piece  of  news :  while 
Kerbogha  had  advanced,  Antioch  had  fallen.  Two  days 
earlier,  —  so  the  tale  in  the  Moslem  camp  ran,  —  Phirous 
the  Armenian  had  betrayed  a  tower  to  Bohemond,  and  all 
the  city  except  the  citadel  had  fallen  to  the  Crusaders. 
This  was  the  sum  of  the  fellow's  tale,  and  Godfrey  liked  it 
little. 

"  So  Bohemond  made  shift  to  take  the  city  while  he 
thought  me  away  on  the  southern  foray !  "  growled  he, 
almost  bitterly.  "  Gratias  Deo,  —  I  ought  to  say.  But  I 
know  the  manner  of  these  knaves  that  follow  us.  Seven 
days  long  they  will  plunder,  kill,  'and  revel,  thinking  of 
ten  thousand  things  before  scouting.  They  will  be  snared 
one  and  all.  Kerbogha  will  surprise  the  city.  It  will  be 
their  grave,  —  the  grave  of  fools  !  " 

"  And  why  is  not  the  army  moving  ?  "  demanded  Rich- 
ard. 

"  We  wait  for  Cid  Iftikhar  with  all  his  Ismaelians.  Men 
whisper  that  it  is  he  in  private  council,  not  Kerbogha,  who 
will  rule  the  war." 


435 

Richard  smiled  grimly. 

"  Cid  Iftikhar  has  had  cause  to  delay.  But  tell  me : 
does  the  line  of  Kerbogha  compass  the  whole  city  ?  How 
may  we  enter  ?  " 

The  dagger's  edge  was  cold  against  the  Arab's  throat, 
a  goodly  check  to  lying,  and  there  was  something  in 
Richard's  eye  that  made  it  dangerous  to  haggle  with  the 
truth. 

"  Cid,  —  I  tell  you  truly,  —  it  will  be  a  great  peril  for  any 
Christian  to  try  to  enter  Antioch.  But  if  you  ride  to  the 
south  and  then  westward,  touching  the  river  below  the  city, 
I  think  you  might  pass,  if  Allah  favor." 

Longsword  withdrew  the  dagger. 

"  See !  "  commented  he  ;  "  the  word  of  a  Frank  is 
inviolate.  Swear  you  will  whisper,  not  even  to  the  winds, 
you  were  met  by  us ;  and  you  are  free.  Only  we  must  keep 
your  horse." 

The  Arab  swore  by  the  "  triple-divorcement "  (an  oath 
Musa  declared  all-abiding),  and  rejoiced  to  struggle  to  his 
feet. 

"  I  am  secret  as  the  Judgment  book,  my  Cid !  "  quoth 
he,  in  his  gratitude.  Godfrey  motioned  him  away. 

"  Remember  your  oath,  then,  and  begone." 

The  fellow  climbed  the  hillside,  blessing  Allah  he  was 
still  alive.  But  those  he  left  had  a  gloomy  council.  They 
were  in  no  state  for  high  and  brave  speech.  Presently 
Richard  began  in  his  quiet  way,  sure  token  of  determina- 
tion :  "  We  cannot  remain  here.  Others  may  pass,  in 
greater  numbers.  We  have  captured  a  fresh  horse,  and 
must  make  over  the  saddle  for  my  wife." 

But  Musa  stood  listless,  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 

"We  are  in  Allah's  hands,  brother,"  said  he,  with  a 
despairing  wave  of  the  hand.  "  We  have  done  all  men 
might.  Useless  —  fate  is  wearied  with  saving  us.  We 
can  do  nothing  more.  If  our  doom  is  written,  it  is 
written." 

And  Richard  saw  that  the  proud  spirit  of  his  friend  was 
bowed  at  last.  The  heart  of  Musa  was  sprung  from  the 
East ;  the  word  "  fate  "  was  a  deadly  talisman  to  him,  as 


436  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

to  all  his  race.     But  the  Norman  caught  him  roughly  by 
the  shoulder. 

"  Rouse  up,  Musa,  son  of  Abdallah  !  Do  not  anger  God 
by  saying,  '  He  puts  forth  His  arm  to  save  us  all  in  vain,  — 
to  save  from  the  cord,  the  cimeter,  the  fire,  and  the  arrow, 
only  to  wait  for  slaughter  like  cows ! '  We  have  good 
swords  and  strong  hearts  still !  Bowed  heads  never  won 
triumph.  Rouse  up ;  your  wits  are  not  frozen.  When 
one  wills  to  have  victory,  victory  is  at  hand." 

Musa  lifted  his  face;  his  eyes  were  again  flashing. 

"  You  say  well,  brother;  I  am  turned  coward.  Do  what 
you  will;  I  follow." 

Richard  swept  his  arm  around  in  a  circle. 

"  We  cannot  recross  this  barren  country ;  no  refuge 
there.  And  Antioch  must  be  warned.  But  there  is  safety 
for  my  wife  and  for  you." 

"  Safety  for  me  and  for  Musa  ?  What  ? "  Mary,  long 
silent,  demanded. 

Richard  hesitated ;  then  drove  on  into  seemingly  reck- 
less words. 

"  You  have  wits  keener  than  your  cimeter,  Musa,  and 
can  tell  a  tale  to  deceive  sage  Oberon.  Take  my  wife  ; 
ride  boldly  into  the  camp  of  Kerbogha.  Say  you  are  an 
Arab  gentleman  with  a  Greek  slave  fleeing  from  the  Frank- 
ish  raiders  at  Alexandretta ;  that  Turkomen  bandits  met 
your  party  on  the  way  and  scattered  it.  Dress  up  the  tale  — 
they  will  believe  you.  Unless  you  meet  Iftikhar  or  Zeyneb 
face  to  face,  none  will  doubt.  At  first  chance  sail  for  Egypt, 
and  be  safe." 

"And  you  and  Cid  Godfrey  ?  " 

Richard  pointed  over  the  hill  toward  Antioch ;  then 
drew  back  his  mantle.  Upon  the  ring-shirt  was  the  red 
cross  of  the  Crusade. 

"  We  are  soldiers  of  Christ,  and  must  warn  our  breth- 
ren." 

"  Mashallah  !  You  shall  attempt  nothing,"  cried  the 
Spaniard.  "  You  rebuked  me ;  yet  you  rush  into  the  arms 
of  death  !  Your  wife  !  " 

And  Godfrey  added  eagerly :  — 


HOW  RICHARD  AND   MUSA  AGAIN   PARTED     437 

"  Yes,  by  St.  Denis,  —  my  duty  calls  to  Antioch,  but  not 
yours.  One  can  pass  as  safely  as  two.  Think  of  your 
wife,  De  St.  Julien.  If  Musa  prospers  at  all,  he  can  pass 
you  for  a  body-servant  or  the  like.  I  alone  will  go  to 
Antioch." 

Richard  was  very  pale,  and  Mary  likewise ;  but  before 
he  could  answer,  she  thrust  herself  between  the  Norman 
and  his  friends. 

"  You  say  well,  my  lord  and  husband,"  said  she,  simply ; 
"  you  belong  first -to  Christ  and  then  to  me." 

"O  sweet  lady,"  broke  out  Musa,  "pray  him  for  your 
sake,  if  not  for  his  own,  to  go  with  us  ;  to  forget  his  mad- 
ness." 

Mary  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  Her  hands  clasped 
and  unclasped  nervously,  but  her  voice  was  calm  and 
sweet. 

"  No,  brave  Musa,  I  cannot  say  to  Richard  '  turn  back,' 
—  though  my  Lord  Godfrey  says  it.  Cursed  would  be  my 
love  for  him,  and  his  for  me,  if  thus  he  was  turned  from 
his  vow  to  Our  Lord,  and  from  duty  to  his  comrades.  I 
did  not  love  him,  to  make  him  slave  to  my  fears  and  de- 
sires. Rather  I  saw  him  as  something  higher  far  than  I ; 
like  a  mountain  whose  shadows  would  cover  me ;  but 
whose  height  I  would  not  lessen.  For  my  heart  —  as 
your  heart  and  Duke  Godfrey's  heart  —  tells  me  his  duty 
is  in  the  city,  not  with  me.  And  whether  he  dies  —  which 
Christ  forbid  !  —  or  lives  to  see  the  victory,  I  shall  know 
my  love  has  been  sweeter  than  all  the  pain." 

Mary  stood  with  her  head  erect ;  her  eyes  bright,  but  not 
with  tears. 

Richard  turned  to  the  others,  smiling. 

"  Ah ;  good  friends,  how  can  I  be  weak  when  my  dear 
wife  is  so  strong ! "  They  did  not  answer.  Then  he 
touched  Musa,  leading  him  aside.  "  I  must  speak  with 
you." 

The  Andalusian's  eyes  were  wet.  He  was  no  ice-bound 
northerner,  to  nurse  his  fires  deep  within,  and  to  wax  more 
stony  the  more  they  burned. 

"  Musa,"  said  Richard,  very  directly,  "  we  have  been  to 


438  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

each  other  as  few  brothers  and  fewer  friends.  God  knows 
why  you  have  run  this  peril.  Yet  I  believe  you  care  more 
for  the  Greek  than  for  any  woman,  if  you  have  loved  any, 
save  as  a  sister." 

The  Spaniard  shrugged  his  shoulders  almost  gayly. 

"  If  to  any  woman  I  could  yield,"  said  he,  lightly,  "  it 
were  to  her,  peerless  from  Andalus  to  Ind !  Alas,  I  am 
clothed  in  some  magic  armor  the  darts  of  the  eyes  of  the 
houris  may  not  pierce ;  yet  if  any  eyes  could  pierce,  it 
would  be  those  of  Mary  de  St.  Julien." 

Richard  held  his  lips  close  to  the  other's  ear. 

"  Musa,"  said  he,  "  I  may  get  into  Antioch  ;  but  a  long 
road  lies  still  to  Jerusalem.  Where  the  arrows  sing,  I  must 
be.  And  if  I  fall" — he  spoke  lower — "Mary  will  be 
alone.  She  cannot  go  to  La  Haye  and  be  wedded  to 
another  by  her  uncle,  as  would  surely  be  her  fate.  Not  a 
kinsman  remains  at  Constantinople.  You  must "  -  he 
hesitated  —  "  you  must  swear  to  me  that  you  will  love  her ; 
that  if  I  die,  she  shall  be  your  wife.  For  Moslem  as  you 
are,  no  man  breathes  I  would  rather  see  with  his  arms 
about  her  than  you.  You  alone  can  make  her  forget  me ; 
make  her  look  forward  and  laugh  in  the  sunlight." 

Why  were  beads  of  sweat  on  the  Spaniard's  brow  ? 
Why  came  his  breath  so  swift  and  deep?  But  he  answered 
steadily :  — 

"  Brother  mine,  you  ask  a  great  thing ;  yet  I  accept  it. 
If  it  is  written  by  the  stars  that  you  fall,  I  swear  I  will 
stand  in  your  place  to  the  Star  of  the  Greeks.  May  she 
never  want  love  and  service  while  life  is  mine !  But  till 
that  day  I  will  be  to  her  as  a  brother,  no  more,  no  less ; 
and  let  Allah  speed  the  hour  when  I  can  give  her  back 
spotless  to  your  arms." 

They  said  no  more,  those  two  strong  men  ;  their  clasped 
hands  sealed  the  pledge.  Richard  walked  back  to  Mary. 

"Dear  heart,"  said  he,  "we  Franks  have  a  proverb, 
'  Hunger  drives  the  wolf  from  the  woods.'  We  cannot 
stand  here  forever.  Why  should  we  grieve  ?  Have  I  not 
seen  your  face  two  nights  and  a  day ;  and  do  I  not 
commit  you  to  the  noblest  friend  in  all  the  wide  earth  ? 


439 

When  I  enter  the  city,  I  will  show  three  red  shields  above 
the  Gate  of  St.  George ;  and  if  all  goes  well  with  you,  let 
Musa  contrive  to  set  three  lances  with  red  pennons  before 
it  at  an  arrow's  flight,  as  sign  that  your  tale  is  credited  and 
you  are  safe  in  Kerbogha's  camp." 

"  We  will  not  fail,"  said  Musa,  calmly.  Richard  adjusted 
the  saddle  of  the  captured  horse  so  that  Mary  might  ride. 
No  stragglers  were  at  the  moment  in  sight.  The  Norman 
kissed  his  friend  on  both  cheeks.  He  pressed  the  Greek 
once  to  his  breast.  Death  was  not  paler  than  she  ;  but  she 
did  not  cry. 

"You  are  my  cavalier,  my  saviour,  my  husband,"  said 
she,  lifting  her  eyes.  "  You  are  your  Roland  and  our 
Greek  Achilles !  Dear  God,  what  have  I  done  that  for  an 
hour  you  should  love  me  ? " 

"  Our  Lady  keep  you,  sweet  wife ! "  was  the  only 
answer. 

"  And  you,  Richard  mine." 

That  was  all  that  passed.  Musa  spoke  his  farewell  with 
his  eyes.  Godfrey  bowed  ceremoniously  to  the  Spaniard  ; 
kissed  the  lady's  hand.  His  honest  heart  was  too  deeply 
moved  for  words.  Richard  swung  onto  Rollo  without 
touching  stirrup.  He  did  not  look  back.  Marchegai  can- 
tered beside.  The  horses  whirled  their  riders  over  the 
hillside.  Soon  the  view  before  and  behind  was  hid  by  the 
close  thickets  that  lined  the  foothills.  Richard  rode  with 
his  head  bent  over  Rollo's  black  mane,  letting  the  horse 
thunder  at  will  at  the  heels  of  Marchegai.  The  Norman's 
thoughts  ?  Drowning  men,  report  has  it,  live  a  long  life 
through  in  a  twinkling.  Richard's  life  was  not  long ;  yet 
not  once,  but  many  times,  he  lived  it  over  during  that  ride 
—  the  good  things,  the  evil ;  and  the  evil  were  so  many ! 
And  always  before  his  sight  was  the  vision  of  that  face, 
pale  as  marble,  the  eyes  fairer  than  stars  —  that  face  he 
had  put  away  because  of  the  love  for  the  unseen  Christ. 

Now  of  much  that  passed  in  that  ride  Richard  remem- 
bered little;  but  he  followed  Godfrey  blindly.  And  a 
voice  seemed  to  repeat  in  his  ears  time  and  again  :  "  Turn 
back,  Richard  Longsword,  turn  back.  You  can  yet  rejoin 


440  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Musa  and  Mary.  There  is  safety  in  the  camp  of  Ker- 
bogha.  You  are  not  needed  in  the  threatened  city.  Leave 
the  army  to  God.  You  have  long  since  slain  enough  Mos- 
lems to  clear  your  guilt  and  vow." 

But  Richard  would  cross  himself  and  mutter  prayers, 
calling  on  every  saint  to  fight  against  the  assailing  devils. 
As  he  rode,  he  saw  remnants  all  about  of  the  old  pagan 
world  where  there  had  been  love  of  sunlight,  of  flowers, 
of  fair  forms,  and  men  had  never  borne  a  pain  or  struck 
a  blow  for  love  of  the  suffering  Christ  or  the  single  Allah. 
They  were  on  a  road,  he  knew,  that  led  to  the  Grove  of 
Daphne.  He  had  heard  Mary  tell  of  the  sinful  heathen 
processions  that  once  must  have  traversed  this  very  way, 
—  revellers  brimming  with  unholy  mirth,  their  souls  de- 
voted to  the  buffets  of  Satan. 

Once  he  and  Godfrey  drew  rein  at  a  wayside  spring  to 
water  the  horses.  Lo,  beside  the  trickling  brook  was  a 
block  of  weather-stained  marble,  carved  into  the  fashion 
of  a  maiden  fair  as  the  dawn.  Mother  of  Christ !  Was 
it  not  enchantment  that  made  that  stony  face  take  on  the 
likeness  of  Mary  the  Greek  ?  What  heathen  demon  made 
the  lips  speak  to  him,  "  Back !  back !  Do  not  cast  your 
life  away  "  ? 

"St.  Michael  —  away,  the  temptress!"  he  thundered, 
and  with  Trenchefer  smote  the  stone,  so  that  the  smile 
and  the  beauty  were  dashed  forever.  "  Kyrie  eleison  ! 
Christe  eleison  !  "  prayed  Richard;  "Holy  St.  Julien,  patron 
of  my  house,  forbid  these  fiends  to  tempt  me !  " 

Yet  all  the  wood  seemed  full  of  witchery  and  the  voices 
of  devils,  —  the  old  pagan  devils,  Pan,  and  Apollin,  and 
Dian,  and  Hercules,  and  countless  more,  — who  whispered 
ever  that  Christ  and  His  heaven  were  very  far  away ;  that 
life  was  sweet,  the  sun  was  sweet,  and  sweetest  of  all  a 
woman's  love.  But  Richard  muttered  his  prayers  and  rode 
onward ;  trusting  that  they  might  meet  the  infidels  in  flesh 
and  blood,  not  sprites  of  the  air  whose  arrows  no  ring  mail 
could  turn. 

At  last,  after  the  sun  had  climbed  high,  and  the  horses 
had  dropped  to  a  weary  pacing,  there  was  a  shout  behind, 


HOW  RICHARD   AND   MUSA  AGAIN   PARTED     441 

—  an  Arab  yell,  —  the  clatter  of  scabbards  and  targets. 
Down  a  leafy  way  charged  a  squadron  of  Bedouin  light 
horse,  twenty,  perhaps,  and  more.  But  Rollo  and  Marche- 
gai  had  a  fair  start,  well  out  of  arrow  range ;  and  the 
unbelievers  soon  learned  the  speed  of  Prankish  steeds. 
A  long  race,  though  not  such  as  that  when  Iftikhar  had 
led  the  chase.  When  at  last  the  Bedouins  turned  back, 
their  beasts  all  spent,  the  knights'  mounts  too  had  little 
strength  to  spare.  Woods  were  still  on  every  hand,  when 
the  two  painfully  walked  beside  their  horses.  As  they 
climbed  the  slopes  of  Mount  Silpius  in  the  early  afternoon, 
on  the  last  stage  to  the  city,  suddenly  from  beyond  a  bend 
in  the  trees  came  the  pounding  of  horsemen,  fifty  at  least ; 
and  the  sound  neared  fast. 

Richard  cast  a  glance  at  Godfrey. 

"  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  Rollo  is  at  the  end  of  his  speed. 
We  cannot  run  from  fresh  horses." 

The  Duke  shook  his  head  when  he  heard  the  deep  pants 
of  Marchegai.  "  It  is  true,"  he  answered.  "  I  think  we 
had  best  say  '  Our  Father,'  and  look  to  our  swords." 

But  down  the  forest  lane  came  a  clear  voice,  singing 
lustily  the  sweet  Languedoc :  — 

"  Merrily  under  the  greenwood  flying, 
Z«,  zu,  away  to  my  Mirabel! 
Swift  !     For  my  lady  waits  long,  —  is  sighing  ! 
Zu,  zu,  more  speed  to  my  Mirabel !  " 

"  De  Valmont's  voice,  as  I  hope  for  heaven !  "  cried 
Richard,  dropping  the  bridle.  And  straight  toward  them 
cantered  a  merry  body  of  cavaliers  and  men-at-arms, 
Louis's  broad  pennon  leading. 

"  Ahois !  Forward!  Infidels!"  thundered  the  Val- 
monter,  couching  lance  as  he  saw  the  two  awaiting  him. 
But  there  was  a  loud  laugh  when  the  two  knights  were 
recognized. 

"  Holy  Mass !  "  swore  Louis ;  "  and  were  not  you,  my 
Lord  Godfrey,  on  the  foray  to  Urdeh  ?  " 

The  Duke  shook  his  head,  the  instinct  of  a  leader  once 
more  uppermost. 


442  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  I  was  not,"  quoth  he,  curtly,  explaining  nothing. 
"  And  you,  De  Valmont  ?  What  means  this  party  so  far 
from  the  walls  ?  " 

"  We  rode  after  Sir  Philip  of  Amiens,  who  rode  with  a 
few  knights  this,  way  from  the  city  this  morning,  and  has 
not  returned.  We  fear  they  met  Arabs.  It  is  rumored  the 
Prince  Kerbogha  is  as  near  as  Afrin,  and  advancing !  " 

"  By  the  Holy  Trinity,  he  is  advancing !  "  shouted  the 
Duke,  mounting  with  a  leap.  "  Leave  Philip  of  Amiens 
to  God ;  he  is  long  since  passed  from  your  aid.  Back 
to  the  city  with  speed,  if  you  wish  not  for  martyr- 
dom." 

And  wearied  though  Marchegai  was,  Godfrey  made  him 
outpace  all  the  rest  as  they  raced  toward  Antioch.  Rich- 
ard saw  the  Christian  banners  on  the  walls  as  he  drew 
near.  Once  inside  the  gates  he  needed  nothing  to  tell 
him  the  city  had  been  sacked  in  a-  way  that  bred  slight 
glory  to  the  soldiers  of  the  Cross.  He  left  Godfrey  to 
rouse  the  chiefs,  and  to  spread  the  dread  tidings  of  Ker- 
bogha's  approach.  His  own  St.  Julieners  he  found  in  the 
house  of  a  Moslem  merchant  they  had  unceremoniously 
slaughtered.  They  were  so  drunken  that  only  Herbert 
and  Sebastian  were  able  to  receive  him.  A  gloomy  tale 
they  gave  him  —  the  city  stormed,  then  a  massacre  of  the 
Antiochers,  - —  Christian  and  Moslem  alike,  —  so  terrible 
that  even  the  fiends  must  have  trembled  to  find  mortal 
spirits  more  bloody  than  they.  After  the  orgy  of  kill- 
ing had  come  days  of  unholy  revellings,  drunkenness, 
and  deeds  no  pen  may  tell.  To  crown  all,  the  provisions 
found  in  the  city  had  been  so  wasted,  that  starvation  was 
close  at  hand.  Richard  in  his  turn  told  how  it  had  pros- 
pered with  him  at  Aleppo.  Sebastian  sighed  when  he 
heard  of  Mary  in  the  custody  of  Musa. 

"  Can  honey  come  out  of  wormwood  ?  "  cried  he.  "  God 
may  allow  this  infidel  to  serve  Christians  in  their  peril ; 
yet  even  then  with  danger  to  the  soul.  Ah,  dear  son, 
either  you  must  break  this  friendship  with  the  Spaniard 
of  your  own  will,  or  rest  assured  God  will  break  it  for  you. 
Doubt  not  —  light  and  darkness  cannot  lie  on  the  same 


HOW   RICHARD    AND   MUSA   AGAIN    PARTED     443 

pillow ;  neither  can  you  serve  God  and  this  Mammon 
whose  name  is  Musa." 

"  Father,"  said  Richard,  "  had  you  stood  as  I  and  Musa 
did,  both  in  the  presence  of  death,  you  would  not  speak 
thus." 

But  the  answer  was  unflinching. 

"  I  declare  that  had  you  both  died,  your  soul  would  have 
gone  to  heaven,  or  purgatory,  and  his  to  the  nethermost 
hell,  to  lie  bound  forever  with  the  false  prophet  and  rebel 
angels." 

Richard's  thoughts  were  very  dark  after  Sebastian's 
words.  Was  there  a  great  gulf  sundering  him  eternally 
from  the  Spaniard  ?  But  soon  he  had  little  time  for  brood- 
ing on  puzzles  for  the  churchmen.  The  walls  had  barely 
been  manned  on  Duke  Godfrey's  orders,  and  the  foraying 
parties  called  in,  before  the  hosts  of  Kerbogha  swarmed 
down  the  valley,  seemingly  numberless.  The  Moslem 
garrison  of  the  citadel  made  desperate  sallies.  On  the 
day  following  Richard's  return  the  party  led  by  the  gal- 
lant Roger  de  Barnville  was  cut  to  pieces  before  the 
walls.  Each  day  the  bread-loaves  grew  dearer  and  smaller. 
There  was  ceaseless  righting  by  sunlight  and  starlight. 
Each  day  the  taunts  of  the  Arabs  were  flung  in  the  Cru- 
saders' teeth,  "  Franks,  you  are  well  on  the  way  to  Jerusa- 
lem !  "  Truly  the  besiegers  were  become  the  besieged. 
As  the  days  crept  by  the  Christians  were  few  who  did  not 
expect  to  view  the  Holy  City  in  heaven  before  the  Holy 
City  on  earth. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

HOW  PETER  BARTHELMY  HAD  A  DREAM 

ON  Saturday,  the  fifth  day  of  June,  in  the  Year  of  Grace 
one  thousand  and  ninety-eight,  Kerbogha  appeared  before 
Aritioch  with  a  countless  host.  On  the  Saturday  fol- 
lowing a  small  loaf  of  bread  sold  among  the  Christians  for 
a  gold  byzant ;  an  egg  was  worth  six  deniers ;  a  pound  of 
silver  was  none  too  much  for  the  head  of  a  horse.  Men 
who  had  endured  bitter  sieges  in  the  home-land,  who  had 
marched  across  the  parching  deserts  of  Isauria  without  a 
groan,  now  at  last  began  to  confess  their  sins  to  the  priest, 
and  to  prepare  to  die.  For  help  seemed  possible  from  none 
save  God  —  and  God  was  visibly  angry  with  His  servants 
for  the  blood  and  passion  at  the  city's  sack. 

On  the  day  after  his  entrance,  Richard  Longsword 
showed  three  red  shields  on  the  minaret,  and  after  a  little, 
to  his  unspeakable  joy,  there  were  three  lances  with  red 
pennons  set  close  together  before  the  Gate  of  St.  George. 
Mary  and  Musa  were  safe  in  the  camp  of  Kerbogha,  and 
Richard  blessed  St.  Michael  and  our  Lady  ever  Virgin. 
Yet  for  a  while  he  was  angry  with  Heaven.  If  he  had 
entered  the  city  so  easily,  might  not  Mary  have  come  in  at 
his  side  ?  What  need  of  parting  ?  But  he  did  not  keep 
these  feelings  long ;  and  his  thankfulness  was  deep  when 
he  knew  that  at  least  his  wife  was  not  seeing  gallant  seig- 
neurs, even  the  very  Count  of  Flanders,  begging  in  the  city 
streets  for  a  bit  of  bread,  nor  was  herself  enduring  the 
awful  hunger. 

For  the  famine  was  the  last  stroke  of  the  wrath  of  God 
upon  His  unworthy  people.  Thousands  had  died  when  the 

444 


HOW   PETER   BARTHELMY   HAD   A   DREAM     445 

first  hordes,  led  by  Peter  the  Hermit  and  Walter  Lack- 
penny,  had  been  cut  off  by  Kilidge  Arslan ;  thousands 
more  at  Dorylaeum ;  tens  of  thousands  when  they  tracked 
the  desert  and  besieged  Antioch.  But  this  was  the  crown- 
ing agony.  When  the  news  came  that  Kerbogha  was  ap- 
proaching, the  princes  had  indeed  done  what  they  could. 
Messengers  had  rushed  down  to  the  coast  to  bring  up  pro- 
visions landed  by  the  friendly  Italian  merchants ;  foraging 
parties  had  been  sent  to  sweep  the  country.  But  nine 
months  long  Syria  had  been  harried  by  the  armies.  In  a 
few  days  all  the  Christians  were  face  to  face  with  starva- 
tion. Pleasanter  far  to  spend  their  last  strength  in  the 
daily  battles  with  Kerbogha,  who  ever  pressed  nearer,  than 
to  endure  the  slow  agony  in  the  city.  Yet  the  infidels  won 
success  upon  success.  The  Moslem  garrison  of  the  castle 
made  continual  sorties ;  the  outlying  forts  of  the  Christians 
were  defended  gallantly,  but  in  vain.  Each  day  drifted 
into  the  starving  city  some  tale  of  the  pride  and  confidence 
of  Kerbogha  —  how  when  squalid  Prankish  prisoners  were 
haled  before  him,  his  atabcgs  had  roared  at  his  jest,  "  Are 
these  shrunken-limbed  creatures  the  men  who  chatter  of 
taking  Jerusalem  ? "  and  how  he  had  written  to  the  arch- 
sultan  :  "  Eat,  drink,  be  merry !  The  Franks  are  in  my 
clutch.  The  wolf  is  less  terrible  than  he  boasted  !  " 

In  the  city  the  cry  again  was,  "  God  wills  it !  "  But  the 
meaning  was,  "  God  wills  we  should  all  perish  or  become 
slaves ; "  and  on  every  hand  was  dumb  lethargy  or  mad 
blasphemy. 

New  misfortunes  trod  upon  old.  In  a  sortie  Bohemond 
the  crafty  and  brave  was  wounded ;  Tancred's  and  God- 
frey's valor  ended  in  repulse.  The  foe  pressed  closer, 
damming  the  last  tiny  stream  of  provisions  that  trickled 
into  the  doomed  city.  Boiled  grass,  roots,  leaves,  leathern 
shields,  and  shoes;  the  corpses  of  slain  Saracens  —  the 
Franks  had  come  even  to  this!  Richard  feasted  with 
Duke  Godfrey  on  a  morsel  from  a  starved  camel.  The 
good  Duke  sacrificed  his  last  war-horse  except  Marchegai, 
and  then  the  lord  of  Lorraine  was  more  pinched  for  food 
than  the  meanest  villain  on  his  distant  lands.  As  day 


446  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

passed  into  day  despair  became  deeper.  Many,  once 
among  the  bravest,  strove  to  flee  in  the  darkness  down  to 
the  port  of  St.  Simeon  and  escape  by  sea.  Many  went 
boldly  to  the  Moslem  camp,  and  confessed  Islam  in  return 
for  a  bit  of  bread.  "  Rope-dancers,"  howled  the  survivors, 
of  those  who  by  night  lowered  themselves  from  the  walls. 
And  Bishop  Adhemar  talked  of  the  fate  of  Judas  Iscariot. 
But  still  desertions  continued,  from  the  great  counts  of 
Blois  and  of  Melun  down  to  the  humblest. 

One  day  Richard  was  cut  to  the  quick  by  having  Prince 
Tancred,  who  kept  the  walls,  send  him  under  guard  one  of 
his  own  St.  Julien  men,  who  had  been  caught  while  trying 
to  desert.  Richard  had  prided .  himself  on  the  loyalty  of 
his  band,  and  his  fury  was  unbounded. 

"  Ho !  Herbert,  rig  a  noose  and  gibbet.  Turn  the 
rascal  off  as  soon  as  Sebastian  has  shriven  him !  "  rang  his 
command. 

To  his  surprise  a  murmur  burst  from  the  men-at-arms 
about,  and  he  surveyed  them  angrily. 

"  What  is  this,  my  men  ?  Here  is  a  foul  traitor  to  his 
seigneur  and  his  God !  Shall  he  not  die  ?  " 

Then  a  veteran  man-at-arms  came  forward  and  kissed 
Richard's  feet. 

"  Lord,  we  have  served  in  the  holy  war  leal  and  true. 
But  it  is  plain  to  all  men  that  God  does  not  wish  us  to  set 
eyes  on  Jerusalem  !  We  have  parents  and  wives  and  chil- 
dren in  dear  France.  We  have  done  all  that  good  warriors 
may,  now  let  us  go  back  together.  To-night  lead  us  your- 
self along  the  river  road,  and  let  us  escape  to  the  port  of 
St.  Simeon." 

No  thundercloud  was  blacker  than  Richard  Longsword's 
face  when  he  answered,  hardly  keeping  self-mastery  :  — 

"  And  does  this  fellow  speak  for  you  all  ?  " 

"  For  all,  lord,"  cried  many  voices.  "  Did  you  not 
promise  to  bring  us  home  in  safety,  to  lead  us  back  safe 
and  sound  to  Nicole,  and  Berta,  and  Alei's  ?  Surely  we  did 
not  take  the  cross  to  die  here,  as  starving  dogs.  Let  us 
die  with  our  good  swords  in  our  hands  as  becomes  Chris- 
tians, or  in  our  beds,  if  God  wills." 


HOW   PETER   BARTHELMY   HAD   A   DREAM     447 

Richard  had  drawn  out  Trenchefer,  and  swept  the  great 
blade  round.  "  My  good  vassals,"  he  said  in  the  lordly 
fashion  he  could  put  on  so  well,  "  you  know  your  seigneur. 
Know  that  he  is  a  man  who  has  thus  far  gone  share  and 
share  to  the  last  crumb  with  his  people,  and  will.  Does 
not  my  belly  pinch  ?  do  not  I  live  without  bread  ?  But  I 
say  this :  this  man  shall  die  and  so  shall  every  other  die 
a  felon's  death  who  turns  craven,  or  I  am  no  Richard, 
Baron  de  St.  Julien,  whose  word  is  never  to  be  set  at 
naught." 

There  was  a  long  silence  among  all  the  company  that 
stood  in  the  broad  court  of  the  Antioch  house.  They 
knew  well  that  Richard  never  made  a  threat  in  vain. 
They  did  not  know  how  great  was  the  pain  in  the  heart  of 
their  seigneur.  There  was  silence  while  the  body  of  the 
deserter  was  launched  into  eternity. 

"  Amen  !  Even  so  perish  all  who  deny  their  Lord !  " 
declared  Sebastian.  Richard's  heart  was  very  dark  when 
he  visited  Rollo  that  day.  Thus  far,  by  great  shifts,  he 
had  secured  forage.  All  the  other  St.  Julien  beasts  had 
perished ;  men  muttered  at  Longsword  for  sparing  the 
horse.  But  after  that  ride  from  Aleppo  he  would  sooner 
have  butchered  Herbert. 

But  was  this  to  be  the  end  of  the  Crusade  ?  of  the  out- 
pouring of  the  Holy  Spirit  at  Clermont  ?  of  the  agony  of 
the  march  ?  Better  if  all  had  ended  with  the  bowstring  at 
Aleppo.  No,  not  better ;  for  Mary  was  saved. 

A  gloomy  council  came  that  afternoon  at  the  Patriarch's 
palace,  under  Godfrey's  presidency ;  no  hope  —  the  Greek 
Emperor  they  had  awaited  was  reported  retreating  !  The 
iron  men  at  the  council  groaned.  Guy,  brother  of  Bohe- 
mond,  cried  out  against  God  Himself. 

"Where  is  Thy  Power,  now,  Lord  God?"  rang  his  de- 
spairing blasphemy.  "If  Thou  art  all-powerful,  why  dost 
Thou  let  these  things  be  ?  Are  we  not  Thy  soldiers,  and 
Thy  children  ?  Where  is  the  father  or  the  king  who  would 
suffer  his  own  to  perish  when  he  has  power  to  save  ?  If 
now  Thou  forsakest  Thy  champions,  who  will  henceforth 
fight  for  Thee  ?  " 


448  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Peace ! "  interrupted  Bishop  Adhemar  ;  "  is  not  God  an- 
gry with  us  enough  already  ?  Will  you  rouse  Him  further 
by  your  blasphemies?"  And  Guy  retorted  madly:  — 

"Angry,  Sanctissime  ?  Look  on  our  faces,  my  lord  bishop. 
Do  they  look  as  if  we  had  feasted  ?  There  are  mothers 
lying  dead  in  the  street  this  moment,  with  babes  sucking 
at  their  milkless  breasts.  I  say  we  have  nothing  more  to 
fear  from  God.  He  has  shown  us  His  final  anger ;  mercy, 
indeed,  if  with  one  great  clap  He  could  strike  us  all  dead  and 
end  the  agony.  What  is  to  be  done,  if  not  to  die,  one  and 
all,  cursing  the  day  we  put  the  cross  upon  our  breasts  ?  " 
And  the  speaker  almost  plucked  the  red  emblem  from  his 
shoulder.  Adhemar  did  not  reply,  and  Raymond  of  Tou- 
louse asked  very  gravely,  turning  to  Godfrey  :  — 

"  Have  you  sent  the  heralds  to  Kerbogha,  as  the  council 
agreed,  offering  to  yield  the  city  and  return  home,  on  sole 
condition  that  our  baggage  be  left  to  us  ?  " 

Godfrey's  face  was  even  darker  than  before  when  he 
replied :  "  Yes,  Lord  Count ;  there  is  no  need  of  many 
words,  nor  to  examine  the  heralds.  Kerbogha  will  listen 
to  only  one  surrender — submission  at  discretion  —  after 
which  he  will  decide  which  of  us  he  will  hale  away  into 
slavery,  which  put  to  death." 

The  Norman  Duke  and  Gaston  of  Beam  had  risen  together. 

"Fair  princes,"  cried  the  latter,  "we  are  at  our  wits' 
end.  There  will  soon  be  no  strength  left  in  a  man  of  us 
to  strike  a  blow,  and  the  Moslems  will  take  us  with  bare 
hands.  Dishonor  to  desert,  and  we  will  never  separate. 
Yet  let  us  bow  to  God's  will.  His  favor  is  not  with  the 
Crusade.  Let  us  cut  our  way  down  to  the  port,  and  es- 
cape as  many  as  can." 

"And  so  say  I,"  called  Duke  Robert.  "And  I,"  came 
from  Hugh  of  Vermandois.  "  And  I,"  shouted  many  of  the 
lesser  barons.  But  Tancred,  bravest  of  the  brave,  stood  up 
with  flashing  eyes.  "  I  speak  for  myself.  I  reproach  no 
man,  seigneur  or  villain.  But  while  sixty  companions  re- 
main by  me,  of  whatever  degree,  I  will  trust  God,  and  keep 
my  face  toward  His  city  !  " 

"There  spoke  a  true  lover  of  Christ,"  cried  Adhemar, 


HOW   PETER   BARTHELMY   HAD   A   DREAM     449 

his  honest  eyes  beaming ;  and  Godfrey's  haggard  face 
brightened  a  little.  "  You  are  a  gallant  knight,  my  Lord 
Prince,"  said  he.  "  These  others  will  think  differently 
when  they  have  slept  on  their  words.  Better  starve  here 
than  return  to  France,  if  return  we  can.  We  have  asked 
Kerbogha's  terms  —  we  have  them.  'The  tender 'mercies 
of  the  wicked  are  cruel,'  as  says  Holy  Writ.  How  can  we 
return  with  all  the  paynim  nations  jeering  at  us,  crying, 
'  See  !  See  the  boasted  Prankish  valor ! '  We  can  do  no 
more  to-day ;  let  us  meet  again  to-morrow." 

"To-morrow  we  shall  be  yet  hungrier,"  muttered  Guy  of 
Tarentum,  as  he  went  out  at  Longsword's  side.  "  Except 
a  miracle  come  of  God,  Kerbogha  has  us."  "  Except  a 
miracle !  "  repeated  Adhemar.  Richard  carried  home  the 
words.  Had  God  turned  away  His  face  from  His  chil- 
dren ?  Were  the  brave  days  when  the  Red  Sea  swallowed 
Pharaoh's  myriads,  when  four  lepers  delivered  starving 
Samaria  from  the  Syrian  hosts  but  as  jongleurs'  tales  of 
things  long  gone  by  ?  He  told  Sebastian  what  had  passed 
among  the  chieftains,  and  Sebastian  only  answered  with 
a  wandering  gaze  toward  heaven. 

"  These  are  the  days  of  God's  wrath  !  Now  appears  the 
host  foretold  in  the  Apocalypse  —  the  four  angels  loosed 
from  the  river  Euphrates,  come  forth  with  their  army  of 
horsemen,  two  hundred  thousand,  and  for  an  hour,  and  a 
day,  and  a  month,  and  a  year,  shall  they  slay  the  third 
part  of  mankind." 

"  Father,"  said  Richard,  "  do  you  know  what  the  princes 
say  ?  '  Except  a  miracle,  we  are  delivered  to  Kerbogha.' 
Are  the  days  of  God's  mercy  spent  ?  Were  the  Jews  more 
righteous  than  we,  that  they  should  be  saved  by  wonders 
from  heaven,  and  we  perish  like  oxen  ?  I  speak  not  for 
my  own  sake  —  though  the  saints  know  it  is  hard  to  keep  a 
stout  heart  over  a  nipping  belly  —  but  for  my  men,  for 
the  whole  host.  Pestilence  is  treading  behind  the  famine. 
This  day  five  thousand  have  died  in  Antioch  —  cursing  the 
hour  they  took  the  cross  and  the  God  who  led  them  forth. 
I  say  again  :  How  can  these  things  be  —  God  sit  silent  in 
yonder  blue  heaven,  and  still  be  good?" 


450  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

Sebastian  brushed  his  bony  hand  across  his  face  as  though 
driving  away  a  mist,  and  ran  on  wildly :  — 

"  Kerbogha  is  the  beast  foretold  in  the  beginning !  The 
beast  and  the  false  prophet,  which  is  Mohammed,  have 
deceived  those  who  have 'the  mark  of  the  beast;  and  all 
such  with  those  that  have  worshipped  his  image  shall  share 
with  the  beast  and  the  false  prophet  in  the  lake  of  fire, 
burning  with  brimstone." 

"  Yes,  dear  father,"  said  Richard,  simply  ;  "  but  the  ven- 
geance of  God  is  long  delayed !  " 

Sebastian  gave  no  answer.  All  that  afternoon  he  went 
among  the  dying,  who  lay  like  dogs  in  the  streets,  holding 
up  the  crucifix,  telling  them  of  the  martyrs'  joys ;  that 
death  by  sickness  and  famine  was  no  less  a  sacrifice  to 
God  than  death  by  the  sword. 

"  Fear  not,  beloved,"  were  his  words  to  those  whose  last 
speech  was  of  home  and  longed-for  faces,  "you  are  going 
to  a  fair  and  pleasant  country,  very  like  dear  France,  only 
brighter  and  richer  than  France,  if  that  may  be.  There,  as 
far  as  you  can  see,  is  a  plain  of  soft  green  grass,  and  the 
sky  is  always  blue ;  and  there  is  a  lovely  grove  with  whis- 
pering trees  laden  with  fruit  of  gold ;  and  the  fountain  of 
'life  and  love'  sparkling  with  a  thousand  jets,  and  from  it 
flows  a  river  broader  and  fairer  than  any  in  the  South 
Country.  Here  all  day  long  you  will  dance  with  the  angels, 
clothed  in  bleaunts  of  red  and  green,  and  crowned  with 
flowers  as  at  a  great  tourney ;  and  all  your  friends  will 
come  to  you ;  there  shall  be  love  and  no  parting,  health 
and  no  sickness ;  nor  fear,  nor  war,  nor  labor,  nor  death  ; 
and  God  the  Father  will  smile  on  you  from  His  golden 
throne,  and  God  the  Son  will  be  your  dear  companion." 

So  many  a  poor  sufferer  flickered  out  with  a  smile  on 
his  wan  lips  at  Sebastian's  words,  while  he  thought  he  was 
catching  visions  of  the  heavenly  country,  though  there  was 
only  before  his  dying  eyes  the  memory  of  a  sunny  vine- 
yard or  green-bowered  castle  beside  the  stately  Rhone  or 
the  circling  Loire. 

Thus  Sebastian  spent  his  day.  But  Richard  heard  him 
repeat  many  times  —  "A  miracle  !  except  we  be  saved  by 


HOW   PETER   BARTHELMY    HAD   A   DREAM     451 

a  miracle ! "  And  toward  evening  the  Norman  saw  his 
chaplain  deep  in  talk  with  the  half-witted  priest,  Peter 
Barthelmy,  and  another  Provencal  priest  named  Stephen. 

Count  Raymond  sat  at  the  end  of  the  day  in  his  tent 
before  the  castle,  and  facing  him  was  Bishop  Adhemar. 
There  was  no  hope,  no  courage,  left  in  the  army  at  the 
close  of  that  gloomy  day.  Bohemond  had  had  to  fire  his 
followers'  barracks  to  drive  them  forth  to  fight  on  the 
walls.  When  the  alarm  trumpets  sounded  an  attack,  men 
only  muttered,  "  Better  die  by  the  sword  than  by  a  month- 
long  death  of  starving."  Gloomy  had  been  the  dialogue, 
and  at  last  the  Count  asked  :  — 

"  Dear  father,  have  masses  been  duly  said,  and  prayers 
offered  Our  Lady  that  she  will  plead  with  Christ  for  His 
people  ? " 

And  Adhemar  answered  :  "  Prayer  day  and  night.  All 
night  long  I  and  the  Bishop  of  Orange  lay  outstretched 
after  the  form  of  the  cross,  beseeching  Our  Lord.  The  cry 
rises  to  heaven  unceasingly.  But  God  remembers  all  our 
sins ;  there  is  no  sign  save  of  wrath." 

And  the  good  Bishop  was  stirred  when  he  saw  a  tear  on 
the  bronzed  cheek  of  the  great  Count  of  the  South.  "  I 
must  go  among  the  men,"  said  Raymond;  "the  saints 
know  I  can  say  little  to  hearten." 

But  he  was  halted  by  his  worthy  chaplain,  Raymond  of 
Agiles,  now  grave  and  consequential.  "  My  Lord  Count, 
and  you,  your  Episcopal  Grace,"  began  he,  importantly, 
"there  has  been  a  notable  mercy  vouchsafed  this  poor  army, 
—  a  miracle,  — a  message  sent  down  from  very  Heaven  !  " 

"  Miracle  ?  Miracle  of  mercy  ?  "  cried  the  Count,  banging 
his  scabbard.  "  These  are  strange  words,  my  good  clerk ; 
we  have  none  such  to  hope  for  now !  " 

"  Beware,"  interposed  Adhemar,  warningly,  for  he  saw 
that  the  chaplain  was  flushed  and  excited.  "  When  men's 
bodies  are  weak,  the  devil  finds  his  darts  lodge  easily. 
Beware,  lest  Satan  has  cast  over  your  eyes  a  mist,  and 
held  out  false  hopes." 

But  the  chaplain  would  not  be  denied. 


452  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Noble  lords,"  quoth  he,  boldly,  "  here  is  a  man  who 
declares  to  me,  '  St.  Andrew  has  appeared  in  a  dream, 
saying,  "  You  shall  find  the  Holy  Lance  that  pierced  our 
dear  Lord's  side,  and  by  this  talisman  overcome  the  un- 
believers !  "  Will  you  not  hear  his  tale  ?  " 

"  And  who  is  this  fellow  ?  "  urged  Adhemar. 

"  Who,  save  the  unlettered  and  humble  priest,  Peter 
Barthelmy,  whom  your  Episcopal  Grace  knows  well." 

Adhemar  shook  his  head  hopelessly.  "There  can  be 
no  help  in  Peter  Barthelmy.  There  are  in  the  host  ten 
thousand  saintlier  than  he,  and  wiser,  and  no  vision  has 
come  to  them." 

"  Yes,  my  Lord  Bishop,"  cried  the  chaplain,  eagerly ; 
"  but  is  it  not  written,  '  Thou  hast  hid  these  things  from  the 
wise  and  prudent,  and  revealed  them  unto  babes  ? '  Cannot 
God,  who  made  the  dumb  ass  speak,  and  who  appeared  unto 
the  child  Samuel  and  not  to  the  wise  Eli,  make  His  instru- 
ment the  untaught  clerk  Peter  of  Marseilles  ?  " 

There  was  an  honest  ring  in  the  chaplain's  words  and  a 
pious  faith  behind  them,  that  made  Bishop  Adhemar  grow 
humble  and  cross  himself. 

" Mea  culpa,  Domine"  he  muttered,  "grant  that  my 
pride  in  my  own  high  estate  and  wisdom  should  be  re- 
buked by  making  this  unlearned  priest  indeed  Thy  instru- 
ment of  deliverance."  Then  aloud,  "  Admit  this  man ; 
let  us  question  him,  and  see  if  he  be  of  God  or  Satan." 
So  Count  Raymond  waited,  and  his  chaplain  went  forth 
and  led  in  the  priest  Peter  Barthelmy. 

A  rough-featured,  heavy-handed  peasant's  son  was  this 
Peter.  He  had  gone  into  holy  orders,  he  scarce  knew 
why;  his  highest  hope  had  been  a  little  village  "cure," 
where  he  could  tell  saints'  stories  to  the  girls,  and  baptize 
the  new-born  babes,  and  enjoy  a  pot  of  wine  on  feast-days, 
and  grow  old  in  peace.  But  men  said  that  he  loved  to 
pray,  was  very  humble,  also  was  fond  of  having  long  and 
circumstantial  dreams.  When  he  found  himself  before  the 
great  Count  of  the  South,  and  Adhemar  "  the  Father  of 
the  Army,"  his  speech  came  thickly,  and  his  knees  smote 
together  under  his  cassock.  But  Adhemar,  whose  heart 


HOW   PETER   BARTHELMY   HAD   A   DREAM     453 

was  compassion  to  all  save  infidels,  told  him  not  to  fear,  if 
he  had  a  clean  conscience,  but  to  tell  them  boldly  ;  for  they 
would  hot  despise  him,  even  if  poor,  untaught,  and  a  vil- 
lain's son.  So  Peter  found  his  tongue,  and  his  tale  ran 
after  this  wise  :  — 

During  the  siege  of  Antioch,  one  midnight  there  had 
been  a  great  earthquake,  and  as  Peter  called  to  Heaven  in 
his  fear,  lo,  two  men  in  bright  garments  stood  before  him 
in  his  hut,  —  one  young  and  more  beautiful  than  any  born 
on  earth,  the  other  old,  with  hairs  all  gray  and  white,  his 
beard  long  and  divided,  his  eyes  black,  his  countenance 
very  terrible,  and  he  bore  a  transverse  cross.  Then  the 
elder  man  had  said,  "  What  do  you  ?  "  And  Peter,  trem- 
bling, answered,  "  And  who  are  you,  good  lord  ?  "  Then 
the  other  replied  :  "  Arise,  and  fear  not.  I  am  Andrew,  the 
Apostle.  Gather  the  Bishop  of  Puy,  and  the  Count  of  St. 
Gilles  and  Toulouse,  and  say,  'Why  does  the  Bishop 
neglect  to  preach  and  to  warn  and  to  bless  the  people  ? ' ' 
Then  St.  Andrew  told  Peter  he  would  show  him  the  lance 
with  which  the  pagan  centurion,  Longinus,  pierced  the 
side  of  Christ,  and  this  lance  he  must  give  to  Count  Ray- 
mond, for  such  was  the  will  of  God.  So  St.  Andrew  led 
Peter  through  the  Saracens  into  Antioch  to  the  Church  of 
St.  Peter  by  the  north  gate,  and  opened  the  ground  before 
the  steps  of  the  altar  and  showed  him  the  lance.  And 
Peter  held  in  his  hand  the  precious  metal,  with  the  water 
and  blood  still  rusted  upon  it.  St.  Andrew  commanded 
him  to  go  to  the  church  with  twelve  men,  after  the  city 
was  taken,  and  dig,  and  he  should  find  it.  Then  the  saint 
replaced  the  lance,  led  Peter  back  to  his  own  hut,  and  dis- 
appeared. 

"  But  why  did  you  conceal  this  so  long  ? "  asked  Adhe- 
mar  ;  "  why  did  you  disobey  the  Holy  Saint  ?  " 

"Ah,  my  Lord  Bishop,"  was  the  answer,  "your  Grace 
sees  I  am  a  poor,  stammering  wretch.  Not  once,  but  four 
times,  has  the  Holy  Saint  appeared  to  me,  warning  and 
threatening,  because  I  feared  to  make  bold  and  come 
before  the  princes  and  your  Grace  with  my  commission." 
Then  Peter  told  how  he  had  tried  to  escape  the  commands 


454  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

of  the  saint,  and  how  the  saint  had  pursued  him,  until  his 
fear  of  punishment  from  heaven  was  greater  than  his  fear 
of  the  scoffs  of  man,  and  thus  he  had  come  to  the  Count 
and  Adhemar. 

When  the  priest  was  finished,  the  Bishop  and  Count  sent 
him  away,  and  sat  for  a  long  time  deep  in  thought ;  for 
whether  he  spoke  out  of  malice,  or  fancy,  or  inspiration 
from  above,  who  might  say  ?  The  chaplain,  Raymond  of 
Agiles,  waited  without  the  tent,  and  received  the  decision 
of  Adhemar. 

"  Let  him  abide  until  to-morrow.  During  the  night  let 
us  pray  again  earnestly,  and  see  if  the  night  and  the 
morning  bring  any  sign  that  the  wrath  of  God  is  turned 
away." 

So  the  night  came,  and  a  thrill  went  through  all  the 
starving  city,  when  it  was  rumored  that  the  Bishop  would 
go  to  the  Church  of  St.  Peter  to  offer  solemn  petition 
for  a  sign  from  God,  whether  He  would  vouchsafe  a 
miracle.  And  as  a  hundred  thousand  despairing  eyes 
watched  the  heavens,  about  midnight  there  came  a  sortie 
of  the  Turks  from  the  citadel,  and  there  was  fighting  in 
the  streets.  But,  lo!  just  when  the  strife  was  fiercest,  and 
the  Christians  almost  gave  way,  there  was  a  rushing  noise 
in  the  upper  heavens  ;  Crusaders  and  Moslem  saw  a  great 
star  of  glowing  fire  rush  downward,  so  that  the  city  and 
the  camps  of  Kerbogha  were  lit  bright  as  day.  Then  the 
star  burst  in  three  pieces  over  the  paynim  camp,  as  if 
God  were  raining  down  fire  upon  the  unbeliever,  as  upon 
old  Sodom  ;  and  for  the  first  time  in  many  weary  days  the 
Christians  dared  to  raise  their  heads,  and  cry :  "  God  wills 
it!  He  will  still  have  mercy  !  " 

The  night  passed ;  and  in  the  morning  there  came  the 
priest  Stephen,  who  went  before  the  princes  as  they  sat  in 
council  beneath  the  castle.  And  he  in  turn  told  a  story 
that  made  men  cross  themselves  and  mutter  their  Glorias. 
For  according  to  Stephen's  tale,  he  had  gone  to  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Virgin,  believing  the  Turks  were 
broken  in,  and  wishing  to  die  in  God's  house.  But  when 
the  foe  did  not  come,  and  all  his  companions  slept,  a 


HOW   PETER   EARTH ELMY   HAD  A   DREAM     455 

young  man  with  a  blond  beard,  the  most  beautiful  form 
he  had  ever  seen,  appeared  to  him,  and  a  bright  cross 
shone  above  the  head,  token  that  this  was  Our  Lord. 
Then  while  Stephen  adored,  Christ  said  to  him,  "  I  am  the 
God  of  Battles ;  tell  me  the  name  of  the  chief  of  the 
army."  And  Stephen  replied,  "  Lord,  there  is  no  one 
chief ;  but  Adhemar  is  most  revered."  Whereupon  Our 
Lord  answered :  "  Tell  Bishop  Adhemar  to  bid  the  people 
return  unto  me,  and  I  will  return  unto  them.  Let  the 
cavaliers  invoke  my  name  when  they  ride  into  battle. 
And  after  five  days,  if  my  commands  are  obeyed,  I  will 
have  pity  on  my  people."  Then  at  Christ's  side  appeared 
a  lady,  more  beautiful  than  day,  who  said,  "  Lord,  it  is  for 
these  folk  in  Antioch  I  have  made  intercession  for  Thy 
favor."  So  Our  Lord  and  His  Blessed  Mother  vanished, 
and  Stephen  could  hardly  wait  for  the  day  to  tell  his  story 
to  the  army. 

Now  when  the  stories  of  Stephen  and  Peter  Barthelmy 
had  run  through  the  host,  it  was  a  marvel  surpassing  to 
see  how  the  skies  were  brightened ;  and  if  a  man  doubted, 
he  stifled  his  doubts  within  his  breast,  as  being  little  less 
than  blasphemy.  Richard  Longsword  in  days  to  come 
was  accustomed  to  wonder  what  it  was  that  Sebastian  had 
said  to  the  two  priests,  when  they  talked  so  earnestly  to- 
gether. But  he  spoke  to  no  man,  only  gave  thanks  in 
silence. 

"  Let  us  cast  all  sin  from  our  hearts,"  admonished  Adhe- 
mar in  the  council ;  "  for  it  is  manifest  God  will  not  keep 
His  anger  forever."  Then  all  the  princes  took  a  great  oath 
to  remain  faithful  to  the  Holy  War ;  and  when  the  Arabs 
cried  to  the  sentries  on  the  walls :  "  Out,  Franks,  out ! 
Show  us  the  Christian  valor ! "  the  reply  came  boldly 
now :  "  Patience,  Sons  of  Perdition  !  The  devil  double- 
heats  his  fires  against  your  coming !  " 

So  the  appointed  five  days  sped,  and  though  many  yet 
died,  the  very  famine  seemed  easier  to  bear.  Every  gaunt 
Frank  whetted  his  sword,  and  if  prayer  and  vigil  avail 
aught,  or  one  cry  to  God  from  thousands  on  thousands, 
it  should  have  availed  them.  No  more  blasphemy  and 


456  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

scoffings  now ;  only  one  desire :  "  The  lance !  the  lance ! 
Then  rush  against  the  infidel !  " 

"Sebastian,"  said  Richard,  "do  you  know,  if  the  lance 
is  not  found,  the  whole  host  will  curse  God ;  perhaps  turn 
infidel  for  a  loaf  of  bread  ?  " 

"  I  know  it,"  came  the  solemn  answer  ;  "  but  it  is  sin  to 
doubt." 

"  Yes,  but  I  am  weak  in  faith.  How  great  is  the  power 
of  Kerbogha!" 

Sebastian's  answer  was  an  uplifted  hand. 

"Would  God  I  could  do  as  did  Elisha  to  his  servant, 
and  open  your  eyes;  for  now,  as  then,  the  host  of  the 
'ungodly  lie  round  the  city,  but  behold  the  mountains  are 
full  of  horses  and  chariots  of  fire  to  deliver  the  Lord's 
elect ! " 


CHAPTER  XL 

HOW  THE  HOLY  LANCE  WAS  FOUND 

IN  the  morning  the  Crusading  Chiefs  prepared  to  dig 
for  the  Holy  Lance.  Richard  was  touched  when  he  left 
his  men,  to  see  how,  despite  their  murmurings,  the  honest 
fellows  tried  to  put  on  a  brave  face.  "Ha,  Herbert!" 
cried  De  Carnac,  "  the  rats  we  feasted  on  last  night  were 
better  than  a  St.  Julien  boar."  And  the  man-at-arms 
forced  the  counter-jest,  "  After  so  much  rat-flesh  I  shall 
lose  all  taste  for  venison."  "Three  of  our  rats,"  snickered 
Theroulde,  "  are  better  than  giant  Renoart's  dinners  — 
five  pasties  and  five  capons  all  for  himself." 

But  this  was  strained  merriment.  Richard  at  the  coun- 
cil found  he  was  appointed  to  go  with  Count  Raymond, 
Raymond  of  Agiles,  the  Bishop  of  Orange,  Pons  de  Bala- 
zan,  Ferrard  de  Thouars,  Sebastian,  and  five  more,  to  dig 
for  the  lance.  Bishop  Adhemar,  good  soul,  lay  ill,  but 
his  prayers  were  with  them.  The  twelve  took  Peter  Bar- 
thelmy  and  went  to  the  Church  of  the  Blessed  Peter,  a 
gray  stone  building,  domed  after  the  Eastern  manner. 
When  they  came  to  the  threshold  they  knelt  and  said 
three  Paternosters  and  a  Credo;  then  the  Bishop  of 
Orange  blessed  their  spades  and  crowbars,  sprinkling 
each  implement  with  holy  water.  All  about  the  church 
in  the  narrow  streets  stood  the  people,  far  as  the  eye  could 
see  —  gaunt  skeletons,  the  bronzed  skin  drawn  tight  over 
the  bones,  the  eyes  glittering  with  the  fire  of  dumb  agony. 
When  the  company  entered  the  church,  there  went  through 
the  multitude  a  half-audible  sigh,  as  all  breathed  one  prayer 
together ;  and  many  started  to  follow  the  twelve,  though 
none  cried  out  or  spoke  a  word.  But  Count  Raymond 

457 


458  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

motioned  them  back.  Then  all  who  were  in  the  church 
—  and  like  all  the  churches  during  the  siege,  it  was 
crowded  with  men  and  women  —  were  bidden  to  rise 
from  their  knees  and  go  away. 

Slowly  the  church  was  emptied.  Then  when  the  last 
worshipper  was  gone,  the  twelve  put-to  the  gates ;  and  all, 
saving  the  Count  and  the  Bishop,  took  a  spade  or  crowbar. 
Peter  Barthelmy  led  them  up  to  the  stairs  leading  to  the 
high  altar,  at  its  south  side.  Here  the  priest  turned,  and 
pointing  to  the  pavement  said,  in  awestruck  whisper, 
"  Here !  at  this  spot  the  holy  saint  took  the  lance  from 
the  ground,  and  laid  it  back  again,  in  my  dream." 

"  Amen  !  and  amen  !  "  repeated  the  Bishop.  Then  all 
the  rest  knelt  a  second  time,  while  he  blessed  them,  mak- 
ing over  each  the  sign  of  the  cross.  When  they  arose, 
they  remained  standing  until  he  gave  the  word.  "  In  the 
name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  Amen ! " 

The  pickaxe  in  the  hands  of  Raymond  of  Agiles  smote 
first  on  the  pavement.  There  was  a  crash,  as  the  mosaic 
pattern  shattered.  Then  the  others  bent  to  their  toil. 
The  costly  glass  and  stone  work  flew  out  to  every  side, 
then  the  gray  cement,  then  the  chill,  dark  earth,  and  with 
all  the  speed  and  strength  that  was  theirs  the  twelve 
slowly  pushed  downward. 

It  was  a  strange  scene.  The  windows  of  the  church 
were  very  small.  Over  the  altar,  with  its  painted  and  gem- 
crusted  ikons  of  the  saint,  twinkled  a  pair  of  candles  ;  above 
the  heads  of  the  thirteen,  far  up  against  the  dark  dome, 
shone  a  pair  of  silver  lamps,  flickering,  with  a  ruddy  glare. 
The  shadows  hung  upon  the  cold  pillars  of  the  old  basilica. 
They  saw  faint  images  of  painted  martyrs  and  angels 
peering  down  from  the  frieze  and  vaulting.  Every  stroke 
of  their  tools  rang  loud,  and  awakened  echoes  that  died 
away  behind  the  maze  of  far-off  arches. 

Digging  and  still  digging,  the  earth  flew  fast  under 
their  eager  hands.  The  Count  forgot  his  proud  title  and 
broad  baronies,  caught  a  spade,  and  toiled  as  became  a 
villain  bred  to  the  soil.  All  the  time  they  labored  the 


HOW  THE   HOLY   LANCE  WAS   FOUND         459 

Bishop  chanted  psalm  after  psalm,  and  the  sound  of  his 
voice  was  a  double  spur  to  the  work,  if  spur  were  needed. 
But  after  they  had  labored  a  great  while,  and  the  trench 
was  growing  broad  and  deep,  every  man  began  to  have  a 
half-confessed  sinking  of  heart.  They  laid  down  their 
tools,  searched  the  great  pile  of  earth  that  was  rising  in 
the  aisle ;  found  in  it  only  pebbles  and  a  few  bits  of 
broken  pottery,  but  no  wonder-working  lance ! 

Yet  Peter  Barthelmy  encouraged  them. 

"  Dear  lords  and  brothers,"  said  he,  undauntedly,  "  do 
not  grieve.  Believe  me,  the  Blessed  Andrew  went  far 
deeper  into  the  earth  than  have  we.  You  have  not  dug 
down  yet  to  the  sacred  relic." 

So,  though  their  arms  were  growing  weary,  they  fell 
again  to  the  toil,  and  the  Bishop  chanted  louder  than 
ever : — 

'"In  my  distress  I  cried  unto  the  Lord,  and  He  heard 
me.'" 

More  and  more  feverish  grew  the  toil.  Richard  drove 
his  own  spade  down,  as  if  very  life  depended  on  each 
stroke,  and  who  might  deny  it  ? 

"  By  St.  Michael !  "  was  his  oath,  "  we  will  find  the 
lance,  though  we  dig  to  Satan  and  his  imps  to  pluck  it  up  !  " 

So  for  a  still  longer  time  they  wrought,  until  their  hands 
were  sore,  arms  and  backs  lame,  and  still  only  dark 
earth  and  sandy  pebbles.  When  at  last  they  paused  for 
breath,  each  one  looked  in  his  fellow's  face,  and  saw 
reflected  there  his  own  waning  hope.  But  still  Peter 
urged :  — 

"  Be  confident,  dear  friends  and  lords ;  deeper  yet  was 
the  lance  when  I  saw  it.  Do  not  distrust  the  saint !  " 

They  toiled  still  longer,  until  by  noting  the  shortening 
of  the  candles  on  the  altar  they  knew  that  noon  was  long 
past,  and  the  day  was  speeding.  None  dared  utter  his 
doubts.  But  at  last  Count  Raymond  declared  that  he 
could  stay  no  more ;  it  was  his  turn  to  go  and  command 
the  fort  before  the  Gate  of  St.  George.  Richard  could  see 
the  anguish  on  the  face  of  the  great  lord  of  the  South. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  the  people  who  are  waiting  with- 


460  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

out  the  church  ? "  demanded  he  of  Peter  Barthelmy ; 
"  they  will  be  plunged  in  despair  when  they  know  we  have 
failed." 

"Ah,  Lord  Count,  do  not  lose  faith  in  the  saint!  That 
were  mortal  sin !  Can  St.  Andrew  lie  ? "  replied  Peter, 
between  the  strokes  of  his  mattock. 

"  St.  Andrew  cannot  lie,  but  Provencal  priests  can," 
was  the  Count's  menacing  retort.  "  Think  well  on  your 
sins,  my  good  clerk.  If  you  have  been  tempted  by  the 
devil  to  deceive  us  in  this  —  rest  assured  the  people  will 
pluck  you  in  pieces." 

"  I  do  not  fear,"  said  Peter,  steadily,  with  the  stolid 
resignation  of  the  peasant  born. 

"  You  shall  be  taught  to  fear,"  muttered  the  Count ; 
then  to  the  others,  "  My  Lord  Bishop,  my  other  lords, 
and  you  good  Christians,  I  say  farewell;"  and  he  added 
bitterly,  — "  and  let  God  have  mercy  upon  our  souls,  for 
we  can  hope  for  nothing  more  on  earth." 

The  Count  was  gone.  And  then  for  the  first  time,  like 
the  howling  of  a  distant  gale,  they  heard  a  raging  and 
roaring  around  the  basilica,  creeping  in  through  the  thick 
walls  and  tiny  windows. 

"  The  multitude  grows  angry,"  muttered  Pons  de  Balazan. 
"They  have  waited  long."  Then  he  went  forth,  and  tried 
to  calm  the  impatient  people,  and  called  in  other  proper 
men,  to  take  the  places  of  such  of  the  twelve  as  had  grown 
weary. 

But  no  man  took  Richard's  place.  Not  his  own  life,  but 
the  lives  of  a  hundred  thousand,  shut  up  in  that  starving 
Antioch,  hung  on  their  toil.  The  chance  of  failure  was  so 
frightful,  that  not  even  he,  whose  fingers  had  learned  so 
well  to  fight,  to  whom  the  life  of  a  man  was  so  small  a  mat 
ter,  dared  look  that  future  in  the  face.  Had  the  rest  all 
forsaken,  he  would  have  toiled  on,  spading  forth  the  earth, 
raising  the  dark  mound  higher,  ever  higher. 

And  all  the  company  wore  grim,  set  faces  now,  as  they 
wrestled  with  their  strengthening  despair,  except  Peter 
Barthelmy  and  Sebastian.  The  monk  was  working  with  an 
energy  surpassed  only  by  Richard  himself.  Longsword 


HOW  THE   HOLY   LANCE   WAS  FOUND         461 

saw  that  he  was  still  calm,  that  the  light  in  his  usually 
terrible  eyes  was  even  mild ;  and  as  the  two  stood  side  by 
side  in  the  trench,  Sebastian  said  to  him  :  "  Why  fear,  dear 
son  ?  Are  we  not  in  God's  hands  ?  Can  He  do  wrong,  or 
bring  His  own  word  to  naught  ? " 

The  Norman  answered  with  an  angry  gesture :  — 

"  Truly  our  sins  must  be  greater  than  we  dreamed,  to  be 
punished  thus  —  to  be  promised  deliverance,  and  have 
Heaven  mock  us !  " 

Sebastian's  reply  was  a  finger  pointed  upward  to  the 
painted  Christ,  just  behind  the  two  lamps. 

"  Be  not  fearful,  O  ye  of  little  faith  !  " 

Richard  fought  back  the  doubts  rising  in  his  soul,  and 
flung  all  his  strength  anew  into  his  work. 

The  noise  without  the  church  was  louder  now.  They 
could  hear  shouts,  curses,  threats,  rising  from  a  thousand 
throats. 

"  Deceiver,  the  devil  has  led  him  to  blast  us  with  false 
hopes  !  Impostor,  he  dreamed  nothing  !  Out  with  them  ; 
out  with  them  all !  The  whole  company  is  leagued  with 
Satan !  Kill  the  false  dreamer  first,  then  yield  to  Ker- 
bogha  ;  he  can  only  slay  us  ! " 

These  and  fifty  more  like  shouts  were  ringing  fiercely. 
Presently  there  was  a  crashing  and  pounding  at  the  gates 
of  the  church.  "  Open,  open !  There  is  no  lance  !  Slay 
the  deceiver !  " 

Richard  turned  to  the  Bishop,  who  in  sheer  weariness 
had  ceased  chanting.  "Reverendissime,  the  people  are  get- 
ting past  control.  In  a  moment  they  will  break  in  on  us 
and  commit  violence  at  the  very  altar;  go  and  reason 
with  them  while  there  is  yet  time." 

"  Open  !  open  !     Death  to  Peter  the  Provencal !  " 

The  roaring  had  swelled  to  thunders  now.  The  strong 
iron-bound  gates  were  yielding  under  the  strokes  of  mace 
and  battle-axe.  Richard  flung  down  his  spade,  and  gripped 
Trenchefer.  He  would  not  defend  the  deceiving  priest ; 
but  no  unruly  men-at-arms  should  touch  a  hair  of  Sebas- 
tian, if  he  also  was  menaced.  But  just  as  the  portals  be- 
gan to  give  way,  Peter  Barthelmy,  stripped  of  girdle  and 


462  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

shoes,  his  hands  empty,  and  only  his  shirt  on  his  back, 
leaped  into  the  deep  black  pit.  Even  as  the  doors  flew 
open,  but  while  the  crowd  stood  awed  and  hesitant  at  sight 
of  the  dim  splendor  of  the  nigh  empty  church,  Raymond 
of  Agiles  fell  on  his  knees  and  prayed  loudly :  — 

"  O  Lord  God  of  battles  and  of  mercy,  have  pity  on  Thy 
people.  Have  mercy  !  Give  us  the  lance,  sure  token  of 
victory !  " 

And  the  moment  his  words  died  away,  Peter  Barthelmy 
lifted  one  hand  up  from  the  pit  —  and  in  his  hand  the 
rusted  head  of  a  lance  /  .  .  . 

Now  what  followed  no  man  could  tell  in  due  order.  For 
afterward  Raymond,  the  chaplain,  was  sure  that  he  was 
the  first  to  seize  the  lance  from  Peter,  and  kiss  it  fervently  ; 
and  Sebastian  and  the  Bishop  and  Richard  Longsword  each 
claimed  the  same  for  themselves.  But  all  the  toilers  were 
kneeling  ranged  behind  the  Bishop,  as  he  stood  in  the 
centre  of  the  great  aisle,  and  upheld  the  relic  in  sight  of 
the  multitude  thrusting  its  way  in. 

"  Kneel !  Thank  God  with  trembling  !  "  rang  the  words  ; 
"for  He  has  had  mercy  on  His  army,  has  remembered 
His  elect!  Behold  the  lance  that  pierced  our  Saviour's 
side !  " 

And  at  these  words  a  wondrous  sobbing  ran  through  the 
swelling  company ;  after  the  sobbing,  a  strange,  terrible 
laughter,  and  after  the  laughter  one  great  shout,  that 
made  the  dark  vaulting  echo  with  thunder. 

"  Gloria  in  excelsis  Deo  !  et  in  terra  pax  hominibus  bona 
•voluntatis!  "  so  they  sang  in  the  church.  But  now  the  tid- 
ings had  flown  on  wings  unseen  to  the  thousands  without, 
and  all  the  streets  were  rolling  on  the  greater  doxology : 
"  Laudemus  te ;  bencdicimus  te,  adoramus  te,  glorificamus 
te  ;  gratias  agimus  tibi  propter  magnam  gloriam  tnam  !  " 

When  Richard  came  out  of  the  church,  he  was  met  by  a 
cry  from  countless  voices :  "  Hail !  Richard  de  St.  Julien  ! 
You  were  one  who  found  the  Holy  Lance  !  The  favor  of 
God  and  the  love  of  Christ  go  with  you  !  May  you  ever 
prosper.  You  were  one  of  those  who  saved  us  all !  " 

"  No,    sweet  friends,"  said  the  Norman  to  those  who 


"AND    IN    HIS    HANI)   THK    RUSTED    HEAD   OF   A    LA.NCK  " 


HOW  THE   HOLY   LANCE  WAS   FOUND         463 

could  hear.  "We  are  all  saved  by  the  favor  of  God.  I 
am  only  like  you,  a  very  sinful  man."  And  he  bowed  his 
head,  remembering  his  misdeeds,  and  wondering  why  he 
was  chosen  to  have  part  in  so  great  a  mercy.  But  the 
people  would  not  listen  to  him  or  his  fellows.  They 
carried  the  twelve,  and  Peter  Barthelmy  at  their  head, 
borne  on  high  to  the  palace  of  the  Patriarch ;  and  there 
the  dear  Bishop  Adhemar  was  roused  from  his  sickness, 
and  cured  in  a  twinkling  by  the  cry  that  shot  on  ahead  of 
the  company,  "  Gloria  !  Gloria  !  The  lance !  The  lance ! 
Let  us  fall  upon  Kerbogha !  " 

The  cry  came  to  the  men  on  the  walls,  and  to  Duke 
Godfrey,  who  crossed  himself  and  swore  seven  candle- 
sticks of  gold  to  our  Lady  of  Antwerp.  The  Moslems 
heard  it,  and  those  who  were  wise  said,  "  Let  us  pray 
Allah  to  shield  against  the  Prankish  valor,  if  once  it  be 
kindled." 

Only  one  shout  now  throughout  the  city.  From  the 
weakest  and  hungriest,  "  Battle  !  "  But  Godfrey  restrained 
those  who  wished  to  fight  that  very  night.  "  Nothing 
rash,"  he  urged ;  and  it  was  determined  to  send  an  em- 
bassy to  bid  Kerbogha  raise  the  siege  or  offer  fair  combat. 
They  sent  as  envoys  Peter  the  Hermit,  and  one  Herluin 
who  knew  the  infidels'  speech ;  also  Richard  Longsword, 
because  he  likewise  spoke  Arabic,  and  could  cast  a  soldier's 
eye  on  the  emir's  camp.  The  parley  sounded,  and  a  gor- 
geously dressed  atabeg  met  the  envoys  at  the  Bridge  Gate 
to  lead  them  to  Kerbogha.  The  Moslem  made  large  eyes 
at  the  little  monk  with  his  rope  girdle  and  tattered  cassock, 
the  humble  interpreter,  and  the  ponderous  Prankish  baron, 
in  threadbare  bleaunt  and  clattering  a  sword  no  arm  from 
Tunis  to  Bokhara  could  wield. 

"  And  is  this  embassy  clothed  with  power  to  deal  with 
our  commander  ?  "  demanded  the  wondering  atabeg.  "  The 
passions  of  the  Lord  Kerbogha  are  swift.  Do  not  play 
with  him." 

"  Friend,"  said  Richard,  soberly,  "  you  shall  find  that 
we  lack  not  authority." 


464  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

Therefore  the  three  were  led  into  the  paynim  camp, 
of  which  the  chief  part  lay  north  of  the  river.  Here  they 
saw  that  the  might  of  the  East  had  indeed  gathered  about 
Kerbogha :  wiry  Seljouks  of  Kilidge  Arslan,  brown  Arabs 
from  the  Southern  deserts,  graceful  Persians,  dark-eyed 
Syrians  in  the  white  dress  of  the  Ismaelians,  gaudily  clad 
Turkoman  cavaliers  from  Khorassan  and  Kerman,  Tartar 
hordesmen  from  the  steppes  of  the  far  East ;  all  stood 
about,  pointing,  whispering,  jeering  at  the  three  Franks. 
"  Were  these  the  terrible  men  who  had  won  Nicaea  and 
Dorylaeum,  and  taken  Antioch?"  ran  the  titter.  But  no 
one  molested  them,  as  the  atabeg  escorted  through  the 
avenues  of  black  camel's-hair  tents,  interspersed  with  the 
gayer  silken  pavilions  of  the  emirs.  Then  at  last  they 
found  themselves  before  the  palace  tent  of  Kerbogha. 
Here  they  were  led  at  once  before  the  Moslem  chief  him- 
self, who  was  clothed  in  gold,  silk,  and  jewels,  worth  ten 
baronies  in  France.  He  was  surrounded  by  the  emirs  and 
petty  sultans,  standing  close  about  his  throne ;  on  his  left 
hand  was  Kilidge  Arslan  the  Seljouk,  and  Dekak  lord  of 
Damascus ;  on  his  right  a  figure  Richard  knew  full  well, 
clothed  though  he  was  in  gilded,  jewel-set  armor  from  head 
to  heel,  Iftikhar  Eddauleh !  All  around  the  tent  were 
ranged  Kerbogha's  bodyguard,  three  thousand  picked 
Turkish  horsemen,  panoplied  in  flashing  steel ;  while  the 
three  envoys  were  led  up  a  lane  of  giant  negro  mace- 
bearers,  whose  eyes  followed  the  least  beck  of  their  lord, 
whose  golden  girdles  and  red  loin-cloths  shone  doubly 
bright  against  their  ebony  skins.  Richard,  as  he  came, 
saw  the  stores  of  food  and  wine  laid  out  for  the  pleasure 
of  the  infidels,  while  good  Christians  were  starving.  He 
saw  the  camels  of  the  hospital  corps  of  Kerbogha,  and  the 
host  of  physicians  waiting  here  with  their  medicine  chests, 
while  in  Antioch  thousands  had  died  of  pestilence.  Then 
his  heart  grew  hard,  and  he  held  his  head  very  high,  as  he 
and  his  companions  walked  down  the  file  of  negroes  and 
stood  before  Kerbogha. 

Now  the  chamberlains  who  were  at  the  foot  of  the 
throne  had  motioned  to  the  Franks  to  bow  down,  and  kiss 


HOW  THE   HOLY   LANCE   WAS   FOUND         465 

the  carpet  before  Kerbogha ;  but  the  three  stood  like 
statues.  When  the  silence  was  long,  Kerbogha  spoke 
forth,  not  veiling  impatience. 

"  Fools,  how  long  will  you  carry  yourselves  so  arro- 
gantly ?  It  is  yours  to  humble  yourselves,  not  play  the 
part  of  lords.  A  strange  embassy  this  —  who  are  you  ? 
What  do  you  seek  ?  " 

And  Harluin  respectfully,  but  firmly,  answered  :  — 

"  Lord,  we  are  the  envoys  of  the  princes  in  Antioch ; 
and  this  venerable  hermit  named  Peter  will  speak  for 
us." 

A  thousand  eyes  were  on  the  little  monk  when  he 
stepped  forward.  There  was  no  sign  of  fear,  his  own  eyes 
were  very  bright ;  he  returned  the  haughty  gaze  of  Ker- 
bogha as  if  he  were  himself  arbiter  of  life  or  death. 
Harluin  strove  to  interpret  for  him ;  but  Peter  had  re- 
called his  Syriac  learned  on  the  pilgrimage,  and  some 
angel  gave  him  the  gift  of  tongues.  Then  right  in  the 
teeth  of  Kerbogha  and  the  emirs  the  tattered  monk  flung 
his  challenge  :  — 

"  Your  Highness,  the  assembly  of  the  chiefs  shut  up  in 
Antioch  have  sent  me  to  you  to  bid  you  cease  from  this 
siege  of  the  city  which  the  mercy  of  God  has  restored  to 
us.  The  blessed  Peter,  prince  of  the  Apostles,  has  by 
virtue  of  the  will  of  God  plucked  it  from  you,  never  to 
return.  Now,  therefore,  take  choice :  raise  the  siege  of 
this  city  without  delay,  or  prepare  for  instant  battle.  If 
you  will,  send  any  number  of  champions  into  the  lists,  and 
let  them  meet  an  equal  number  of  our  own ;  but  if  you 
will  not  —  know  that  God  is  preparing  to  cut  your  host 
short  in  its  sins  !  Nevertheless,  our  word  is  still  —  peace. 
Return  to  your  own  country,  the  Christians  will  not 
molest  you.  We  will  even  put  up  prayers  that  your 
hearts  may  be  touched  with  the  Gospel  and  your  souls 
delivered  from  perdition.  Sweet  indeed  to  call  you  breth- 
ren, to  conclude  betwixt  Frank  and  Turk  abiding  peace ! 
Otherwise,  let  there  be  war ;  and  let  the  just  God  of  battles 
judge  between  us!  Surprise  us,  you  cannot;  neither  will 
we  steal  victory.  But  in  fair  field,  man  to  man,  will  we 


466  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

meet  you,  —  with  few  or  with  many,  —  and  teach  your 
haughty  mouths  the  taste  of  Christian  valor  !  " 

When  the  monk  had  finished,  there  ran  a  low  growl  and 
bitter  laugh  amongst  the  emirs  and  guardsmen,  while 
Iftikhar  laughed  loudest  of  them  all. 

"  Ha !  noble  monk !  "  he  cried  in  French,  "  and  you,  my 
Lord  de  St.  Julien,  one  would  never  think  such  bold  words 
could  flow  out  of  such  empty  bellies !  " 

Richard  made  him  no  answer.  He  saw  Kerbogha's 
right  hand  twitch,  as  if  to  sweep  it  from  left  to  right,  the 
sign  for  instant  decapitation  of  the  envoys,  —  an  order  that 
fifty  eager  negroes  would  have  fulfilled.  But  the  general 
frowned  on  his  guards  who  started  forward,  and  reined  in 
his  fury. 

"  Peter,  take  back  to  Antioch  the  only  resolution  left  to 
you  and  your  starving  host,  whose  feasts  are  on  grass  and 
vermin.  Let  the  beardless  youth  deliver  themselves  up  to 
me,  and  I  will  let  them  live  as  my  slaves,  and  of  my  friends 
and  vassals.  Let  the  young  girls  come  out,  —  they  shall 
be  kept  safe  in  our  harems ;  they  say  the  Prankish  maids 
are  fair.  As  for  all  those  with  beards  or  white  hair,  it 
shall  rest  with  me  to  put  them  all  to  the  edge  of  the 
sword,  or  slay  some,  and  load  the  rest  with  chains ;  "  and 
as  he  spoke  he  pointed  to  the  leg  irons  and  manacles 
which  lay  in  great  heaps  all  about  the  pavilion,  ready  for 
the  Christian  captives.  "Yield  now,  and  to  some  I  may 
show  mercy.  Let  not  your  babbling  priests  deceive  you. 
Allah  has  turned  against  you.  Where  are  your  crucified 
Messiah  and  your  false  apostles,  that  they  let  you  perish 
like  gnats  ?  Yield  now ;  the  axe  is  kinder  than  death  by 
starving.  To  such  as  become  Moslem,  Al  Koran  com- 
mands to  show  compassion ;  for  the  rest,  they  must  yield 
themselves  into  my  hands,  and  take  what  I  will.  Do  not 
wait  until  to-morrow ;  if  you  are  taken  then,  cry  on  your 
God,  who  could  not  save  even  himself  from  the  cross,  to 
save  you  from  my  fury  !  " 

When  Kerbogha  was  finished,  a  great  shout  went  up 
from  the  Moslems.  "Allah  akhbar !  Away  with  the 
infidels ! "  and  there  was  a  rush,  as  if  to  hew  the  three  in 


HOW  THE   HOLY  LANCE  WAS  FOUND         467 

pieces  then  and  there.  But  the  general  motioned  them  to 
keep  peace,  and  Peter,  whose  daring  passed  a  lion's,  flashed 
back  his  reply  :  — 

"  To-morrow,  lord  of  Mosul,  you  shall  judge  whether 
Mohammed,  the  false  prophet,  can  prevail  against  the 
crucified  Christ." 

"  Away  !  They  rush  on  ruin  !  "  shouted  Kerbogha. 
"  Back  to  the  city  with  them !  " 

The  little  monk  cast  one  last  glance  of  defiance  at  the 
figure  on  the  throne,  and  with  a  slow  and  steady  step  the 
three  Christians  turned  their  backs  on  the  gorgeous  com- 
pany, unheeding  a  thousand  threats  that  buzzed  around 
their  ears.  Last  of  all  went  Richard,  and,  as  he  went,  a 
voice  called  after  him  in  French :  — 

"  Ho!  Richard  Longsword,  stay!" 

The  Norman  halted ;  he  was  face  to  face  with  Iftikhar 
Eddauleh.  The  Ismaelian  had  thrown  back  his  helmet,  so 
that  the  gilded  plates  no  longer  concealed  his  face,  which 
wore  a  very  ugly  smile.  His  teeth  shone  white  and  sharp 
as  a  tiger's,  but  his  poise  was  lordly  as  ever. 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  my  lord !  "  said  the  Christian. 

Iftikhar  dropped  his  voice  to  a  whisper :  — 

"  You  are  well  fed  in  Antioch  !  Your  cheeks  are  thinner 
than  on  the  day  you  held  the  lists  at  Palermo !  " 

"  And  I  have  done  many  things  since  then,  my  lord, 
as  have  you,"  came  the  answer.  Iftikhar's  eyes  seemed 
hot  irons  to  pierce  through  his  enemy,  when  he  re- 
plied :  — 

"  Between  us  two  lies  so  great  a  hate,  that  if  we  were 
both  in  Gehenna,  I  think  we  would  forget  our  pains  in  joy 
of  seeing  the  other  scorching." 

"  That  is  well  said,  my  lord.  But  why  detain  me  ?  I 
know  all  this." 

Iftikhar's  voice  sank  yet  lower,  that  none  of  the  great 
company  might  hear.  "  You  had  your  day  at  Aleppo, 
but  to-day  is  mine.  Kerbogha  holds  your  host  in  the  hol- 
low of  his  hand,  yet  at  my  word  he  will  let  you  march 
unhindered  to  Jerusalem." 

"  I  do  not  follow  you,  Cid  Iftikhar." 


468  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

The  voice  became  a  mere  whisper,  but  how  hoarse ! 
"  Deliver  up  to  me  Mary  Kurkuas  safely,  and  I  will  swear 
by  Allah  the  Great,  that  Kerbogha  raises  the  siege !  " 

Richard  laughed  in  his  turn  now,  for  it  was  joy  to  see 
his  enemy's  pain.  "  My  lord,  you  cannot  tempt  me ! 
Praise  God  Mary  Kurkuas  is  anywhere  but  in  Antioch 
among  our  starving  host !  "  But  even  the  Norman  almost 
trembled  when  he  saw  the  storm  of  blind  fury  on  the  Is- 
maelian's  face. 

"Where,  as  Allah  lives, — where  is  the  Star  of  the 
Greeks  ?  "  raged  Iftikhar,  his  voice  unconsciously  rising. 

"  Not  all  your  deaths  and  torments  in  the  dungeons  of 
El  Halebah  will  wring  that  from  me." 

"  Then  by  the  Apostle  of  Allah  !  "  foamed  Iftikhar ;  and 
he  clutched  at  the  Norman's  arm,  while  seeking  his  own 
hilt.  Kerbogha  cut  him  short :  — 

"  Cid  Iftikhar,  the  Christians  are  madmen ;  yet  respect 
the  embassy.  Let  this  fellow  go  !  " 

Iftikhar  flung  the  arm  from  him. 

"  Go  then,  go,"  rang  his  threat  in  Arabic,  which  a 
hundred  heard.  "  To-morrow  we  will  clear  the  reckoning. 
It  grows  ever  longer.  Do  you  know,"  and  he  showed  his 
white  teeth,  "  I  have  killed  your  sister  Eleanor  with  my 
own  hand  ? " 

Richard  bowed  in  his  stateliest  fashion. 

"  My  lord,"  said  he,  "  my  sister  was  long  since  worse 
than  dead  ;  I  did  not  know  she  was  in  El  Halebah  when  I 
came  to  Aleppo,  or  I  might  have  rescued.  Our  Lady  is 
merciful ;  she  has  peace.  And  as  for  me  —  ask  your  own 
heart  if  I  am  a  harmless  foe ;  remember  you  fell  at  Aleppo 
twice,  thrice,  and  by  my  strength !  So  let  God  judge  us, 
and  give  fair  battle!  " 

"  Let  Him  judge!  "  retorted  Iftikhar,  turning,  and  Ker- 
bogha shook  out  his  handkerchief,  the  signal  for  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  assembly. 

So  the  three  Christians  were  led  away,  and  they  did  not 
quail  when  wild  desert  dervishes  flourished  bare  cimeters 
over  their  heads,  and  chanted  from  Al  Koran :  — 

"  Strike  off  their  heads  and  strike  off  their  fingers ! 


HOW  THE   HOLY   LANCE   WAS   FOUND          469 

"  They  shall  suffer  because  they  resisted  Allah  and  his 
apostle ! 

"  Yea,  the  infidels  shall  suffer  the  torment  of  hell  fire ! " 

While  Richard  heard  Peter  muttering  softly  to  him- 
self:— 

"  Happy  shall  he  be  who  rewardeth  thee,  as  thou  hast 
served  us ! 

"  Happy  shall  he  be  that  taketh  and  dasheth  thy  little 
ones  against  the  stones !  " 

At  last,  despite  the  curses,  the  three  were  again  safe  and 
sound  before  the  Bridge  Gate.  They  entered,  and  were 
surrounded  by  a  vast  crowd  demanding  the  result  of  the 
embassy.  When  Peter  wished  to  tell  the  people  of  the 
threats  and  ragings  of  Kerbogha,  Duke  Godfrey,  who  had 
been  the  first  to  hear,  feared  lest  any  should  be  discour- 
aged. So  Peter  merely  declared  that  Kerbogha  wished  in- 
stant battle,  and  was  taken  before  the  chiefs.  There  he 
and  Longsword  told  of  the  might  and  splendor  and  inso- 
lence of  the  Moslems,  how  Kerbogha  had  blasphemed 
the  name  of  Christ  and  breathed  forth  cruelty  against  the 
besieged.  Then  even  among  the  chieftains,  despite  the 
miracle  of  the  lance,  a  few  faint  hearts  trembled.  But 
Bishop  Adhemar,  standing  up,  lifted  his  eyes  to  heaven  and 
recited  solemnly :  — 

"  This  is  the  word  of  the  Lord  concerning  Kerbogha,  as 
once  against  Sennacherib,  king  of  Assyria :  — 

" '  Whom  hast  thou  reproached  and  blasphemed  ?  and 
against  whom  hast  thou  exalted  thy  voice,  and  lifted  up 
thine  eyes  on  high  ?  even  against  the  Holy  One  of 
Israel. 

"  '  But  I  know  thy  abode,  and  thy  rage  against  me. 

" '  Because  thy  rage  against  me  and  thy  tumult  is  come 
up  into  mine  ears,  therefore  will  I  put  my  hook  in  thy 
nose,  and  my  bridle  in  thy  lips,  and  I  will  turn  thee  back 
by  the  way  thou  earnest. 

" '  For  I  will  defend  this  city,  to  save  it,  for  mine  own 
sake  and  for  my  servant  David's  sake ! ' ' 

When  Adhemar  had  spoken,  there  was  only  one  thought 
at  the  council, —  battle  on  the  morrow!  and  the  heralds- 


470  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

at-arms  went  through  the  city,  bidding  every  man  prepare 
to  march  with  the  dawn.  It  was  very  late,  but  no  man 
sought  his  bed.  Richard  was  long  with  Bohemond,  Tan- 
cred,  Duke  Robert,  and  Godfrey,  telling  all  that  he  had 
seen  in  the  Moslem  camp  :  how  that  despite  the  numbers 
and  the  splendor,  discipline  seemed  lax,  and  the  divisions 
very  ill  placed. 

Even  while  the  chiefs  were  in  council,  all  Antioch  was 
rejoicing  over  a  great  boon  —  another  favor  of  Heaven. 
A  secret  magazine  of  corn  had  been  discovered ;  and  a 
meal  of  good  food  was  set  before  every  man  that  night, 
something  that  was  priceless  gain  to  those  who  were  to 
struggle  for  their  lives  at  cockcrow. 

There  was  no  despairing  now ;  no  helpless  lethargy,  no 
longing  for  "  gentle  France."  One  had  thought  the  vic- 
tory already  gained,  to  go  among  the  host  and  hear  every- 
where the  Te  Deums  in  honor  of  the  Holy  Lance  and  the 
battle-cry,  —  so  cheerful  now,  —  "  God  wills  it !  To  Je- 
rusalem ! " 

The  whole  host  made  ready  for  battle  that  night  with 
prayer  and  sacrament.  The  priests  went  their  rounds 
through  the  army,  confessing  each  man  ;  and  many  a  hard- 
ened sinner,  who  had  taken  even  the  cross  lightly,  had  his 
heart  melted  when  his  comrades  were  exchanging  the  kiss 
of  love,  and  saying,  "  God  keep  us  all,  dear  brothers  ;  who 
knows  but  that  to-morrow  night  we  shall  be  sitting  with 
the  angels ! " 

It  was  almost  the  gray  of  dawn  when  Richard  went 
among  his  men.  He  found  them  cheerful,  arms  ready, 
anxiously  awaiting  the  signal  for  battle. 

"  My  good  vassals,"  said  the  Norman,  "we  all  stand  in 
the  presence  of  God,  seigneur  and  peasant.  You  have 
been  faithful  vassals  to  me,  and  I  have  tried  to  be  a  kindly 
and  just  lord  to  you.  Yet  if  any  man  have  a  grievance 
against  me  — say  on  !  Let  all  hear  him." 

But  many  voices  answered,  "  You  have  been  a  father 
and  elder  brother  to  us,  lord ;  may  we  all  die  for  you  if 
need  be  !  " 

"  And  I  for  you ! "  replied  the  Baron,  deeply  touched. 


HOW  THE   HOLY   LANCE  WAS   FOUND          471 

Then,  after  a  pause,  "Now,  my  men,  are  we  prepared  — 
body  and  soul  —  for  victory  on  earth,  or  the  sight  of  God 
the  Father?" 

"  Ready,"  gruffly  replied  Herbert;  "  Sebastian  has  made 
us  all  spotless  as  young  lambs." 

"  You  have  many  sins  to  confess,  brother,"  slyly  hinted 
Theroulde.  "  Sad  if  you  have  forgotten  some  odd  killing, 
that  will  rise  up  for  judgment !  " 

"Think  of  your  own  lies  and  cheating,"  snapped  the 
man-at-arms. 

But  Sebastian  only  cried,  "  Peace !  peace !  "  and  told 
how  the  meanest  villain  who  died  fighting  on  the  morrow 
was  sure  of  a  heavenly  throne  and  a  kingdom  greater  than 
that  of  Philip  of  France.  If  their  past  had  been  wicked, 
here  was  an  easy  penance  —  given  by  Bishop  Turpin  at 
Roncesvalles,  "  to  smite  their  best  against  the  infidels  "  ; 
and  always  let  them  remember  that  all  the  angels  clapped 
their  hands  when  an  unbeliever  fell  under  the  sword,  and 
there  was  joy  unspeakable  in  the  heart  of  God. 

With  a  vast  company  the  St.  Julieners  marched  through 
the  Bridge  Gate  at  red  dawn.  "God  wills  it!  "  arose  the 
shout  from  thousands  on  thousands,  while  the  monks  and 
priests  upon  the  walls  began  to  thunder  forth  the  great 
psalm  :  — 

"  Let  God  arise :  let  His  enemies  be  scattered  ! " 

There  was  a  terrible  gladness  in  all  hearts  —  the,y  must 
fight  paynims  unnumbered  ;  defeat  was  death.  But  death 
meant  welcome  to  Christ's  right  hand  ;  victory,  the  spoiling 
of  Kerbogha. 


CHAPTER   XLI 

HOW    LIGHT    SMOTE    DARKNESS 

Now  the  full  story  of  the  battle  of  Antioch  can  be  told 
only  by  that  strong  angel  in  whose  book  are  treasured  the 
records  of  the  brave  deeds  done  in  faith.  When  that  awful 
book  is  unsealed,  it  will  be  known  why  the  spirits  of  evil 
beguiled  Kerbogha  into  sitting  idly  in  his  tent  at  chess, 
while  the  Christian  host  was  issuing  from  Antioch ;  why  the 
two  thousand  Turks  who  held  the  head  of  the  Iron  Bridge 
scattered  like  smoke  at  the  Crusaders'  first  bolts,  to  let 
the  starving  Franks  lead  their  twelve  "  battles  "  across  the 
river,  and  put  them  in  close  array  confronting  the  Moslem 
line.  Long,  however,  before  the  grapple  came,  Kerbogha 
and  his  atabegs  had  taken  the  saddle,  and  the  Christians 
saw  arrayed  against  them  horse  and  foot  innumerable ;  a 
wide  sea  of  flashing  steel,  of  bright  turbans  and  surcoats, 
tossing  pennons  and  lances  on  plunging  desert  steeds. 
From  the  extreme  left  wing  with  the  Holy  Lance  as  special 
talisman  borne  by  Raymond  of  Agiles  where  Bishop  Adhe- 
mar  commanded,  to  the  right  of  the  long  line  where  Hugh 
of  Vermandois  led,  there  ran  a  thrill,  and  each  man  whis- 
pered to  his  neighbor  "Now!"  and  steeled  his  muscles  for 
the  shock.  No  jests  and  laughter  as  often  before  a  battle ; 
not  a  soul  now  had  heart  for  that.  But  every  eye  was 
bright,  every  lip  firm,  and  the  breath  came  quick  and  deep. 
There  was  dead  hush  when  Adhemar  in  mitre  and  stole  went 
down  the  line  followed  by  a  great  company  of  priests  bear- 
ing smoking  censers,  and  in  their  midst  a  high  crucifix. 
And  when  he  spoke  each  casqued  head  bowed,  each  knee 
was  bent.  At  the  sight  even  the  Moslems  seemed  to  keep 
silence. 

472 


HOW   LIGHT  SMOTE   DARKNESS  473 

"The  peace  of  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God 
the  Holy  Ghost  be  in  your  hearts  and  keep  you.  And  in 
the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity  do  battle.  Amen  !  " 

So  sounded  the  great  benediction.  When  all  rose  to 
their  feet,  and  were  locking  close  the  spear  hedge,  Richard 
Longsword,  one  of  the  few  mounted  knights  who  rode  as 
guard  around  the  Holy  Lance,  heard  as  it  were  the  roaring 
of  a  tempest  coming  down  the  wind  from  the  host  of  Ker- 
bogha,  a  wild  clangor  of  atabals  and  kettledrums,  and  the 
clash  of  myriad  cymbals,  and  higher  and  shriller  than  all, 
the  yell  from  the  mad  devotees  of  Arabia  and  Khoras- 
san :  — 

" La  ilaha  UF  Allah  !     La  ilaha  ill'  Allah  !  " 

The  cry  pealed  from  a  hundred  thousand  throats ;  and 
the  stoutest  soldier  of  the  Cross  felt  a  shiver  and  a  tingling, 
though  he  were  veteran  from  many  a  well-fought  field. 
Now,  at  last,  was  the  issue  left  to  their  good  swords  and 
God! 

But  while  the  Moslem  war-shout  rent  the  cloudless  dome 
of  morning,  an  answering  echo  rolled  onward  from  the 
Christians,  and  as  if  the  very  shout  were  the  signal,  the 
long  line  rushed  forward,  the  thousands  moving  as  one. 

"  God  wills  it !     Death  to  the  unbelievers  !  " 

The  lines  sprang  toward  each  other  like  lions  of  the 
waste  ;  the  broad  plain  country  that  stretched  northward 
from  the  river  grew  narrow  under  their  swift  feet.  Then 
avalanche  smote  avalanche,  light  wrestled  with  darkness  ! 

No  horseman's  and  archer's  battle  as  at  Dorylaeum ;  no 
passage  at  arms  between  chieftains  while  the  hosts  stood 
by  !  But  man  to  man  they  fought ;  the  starving  Franks 
looking  into  swarthy  faces,  where  black  eyes  glanced  fire 
and  white  teeth  flashed  hate.  So  for  a  moment  the  Turko- 
man cavalry  strove  to  break  through  the  Christian  spear 
hedge,  —  for  few  French  fought  mounted  that  day.  But 
the  blooded  chargers  recoiled  from  the  dense  line  of  lances, 
and  swinging  swords,  and  battle-axes,  as  from  a  barrier  of 
live  fire,  and  reeled  back  to  leave  the  plain  red  with  dying 
steeds  and  stricken  riders. 

The  first  blood  only.     For  when  Kerbogha  saw  that  his 


474  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

horsemen  could  not  ride  down  the  defiant  foe  at  will,  he 
flung  forward  his  archers  and  javelin-men,  until  the  air 
grew  dark  with  flying  death  that  searched  out  the  stoutest 
armor.  Then  while  the  arrows  yet  screeched,  and  men 
were  falling  fast,  the  Arabians  and  Turks  charged  home. 
Charged  —  but  though  the  spear  wall  wavered,  it  was  not 
broken  —  while  above  the  shouts  and  howls  of  the  infidels 
beseeching  Allah,  sounded  the  chanting  of  the  psalm  from 
the  priests  who  stood  behind  the  men-at-arms  :  — 

"  Let  God  arise,  let  His  enemies  be  scattered  ;  let  them  also  that 
hate  Him,  flee  before  Him  ! " 

So  for  the  second  time  the  Moslems  reeled  back.  And 
when  Kerbogha,  sitting  in  the  midst  of  his  guard  at  the 
rear  of  the  battle,  saw  it,  he  tore  his  beard  in  rising  fury, 
and  bade  Kilidge  Arslan  the  Seljouk  lead  his  squadrons  in 
circuit  to  fall  on  the  Christians'  rear.  Now  a  third  time 
the  Moslems  came  forward,  slowly  now,  horse  and  foot, 
their  imams  and  ulamas  crying  to  them  to  remember  the 
beauty  of  the  houris,  the  joys  of  martyrdom,  and  to  hew 
in  pieces  the  blasphemers  of  the  Prophet. 

At  this  Richard,  who  knew  Arabic  and  the  fury  of  the 
unbelievers,  called  to  his  men  to  lock  close  about  the  Holy 
Lance,  for  now  indeed  was  the  fated  hour.  Then  the 
Christians  heard,  outrunning  the  breeze,  the  wild  howl  of 
the  dervishes,  to  whom  death  was  more  welcome  than  a 
quiet  sleep :  — 

"  Hell  and  Eblees  are  behind  you !  Victory  or  Paradise 
before  you  !  Forward  !  " 

"  Stand  fast,  men  of  Auvergne !  "  rang  the  Norman's 
command ;  and  every  lance  was  braced  when  the  third 
shock  smote  them.  No  charging,  recoiling,  countercharg- 
ing, in  this  supreme  wrestle  between  Christ  and  Moham- 
med. The  dead  piled  themselves  higher,  higher.  The 
desert  steeds  were  spitted  like  birds  on  the  Frankish 
lances.  The  stoutest  spears  shivered  like  reeds,  and  tar- 
gets were  cleft  as  wicker;  but  the  hand-to-hand  combat 
never  slackened.  Kerbogha  was  throwing  into  the  press 
all  his  numbers.  Again  and  again  Richard  Longsword, 


HOW  LIGHT  SMOTE   DARKNESS  475 

with  Gaston  of  Beam,  the  Count  of  Die,  and  Raimbaut  of 
Orange,  who  fought  under  Adhemar's  banner,  charged  out, 
and  did  deeds  of  valor  to  be  forgotten  only  with  the  last 
jongleur.  Each  time,  as  the  foe  gave  way,  the  hard- 
pressed  Christians  set  up  their  Laus  Deo,  dreaming  they 
had  the  victory.  But  each  time  the  infidels  surged  back 
to  the  onset ;  pressing  closer,  smiting  harder,  and  drown- 
ing the  Crusaders'  prayer  to  Our  Lady  with  their  mad 
"Allah!  Allah!" 

Richard,  who  fought  about  the  Holy  Lance,  twice  saw 
it  reel  in  the  hands  of  Raymond  of  Agiles,  as  fifty  unbe- 
lievers pressed  close.  But  the  Christian  footmen  around 
it  were  a  living  wall,  and  not  a  dervish  who  put  out  his 
hands  to  grasp  the  lance  turned  back  alive.  Still  the 
battle  wavered.  Rumors  came  down  the  line,  now  that 
Godfrey  on  the  centre  was  victorious,  now  that  Bohemond 
was  desperately  beset  by  Kilidge  Arslan.  Richard  looked 
to  his  men ;  gaps  in  the  lines.  Brave  fellows  whom  he 
loved  well  were  moaning  or  speechless  under  those"  red 
heaps.  But  the  infidels  were  still  thronging  in.  The 
gaps  were  closed.  The  fight  raged  as  though  the  blood 
spilled  were  but  oil  cast  into  a  furnace. 

And  presently  as  Richard  fought  around  the  lance,  he 
saw  a  stately  figure  in  gilded  armor  that  he  knew  well 
despite  the  closed  helmet,  —  saw  it  come  pressing  through 
the  ranks  of  the  Moslems. 

"  Ho  !  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,"  rang  the  Norman's  challenge, 
as  the  roar  of  the  conflict  lulled  for  a  twinkling,  "  face  to 
face,  and  man  to  man  !  " 

The  only  answer  by  the  Ismaelian  was  a  lowered  lance, 
and  Rollo  flew  out  to  greet  the  charge.  For  a  moment 
those  standing  by  gave  place.  They-  met  unhindered. 
Under  the  shock  each  lance  flew  to  splinters,  and  the 
good  steeds  were  flung  on  their  haunches. 

"  Again  !  "  burst  from  the  emir,  as  his  cimeter  glanced 
in  the  sun.  "  Again !  "  And  Richard  with  Trenchefer  rode 
straight  at  him,  the  unspeakable  hate  blinding  to  all  things 
save  his  foe.  Three  times  they  fenced,  and  the  sparks 
flew  at  every  stroke.  With  the  fourth,  Trenchefer  sheared 


476  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

off  the  black  plumes  on  the  Ismaelian's  crest.  A  sweeping 
blow  from  Iftikhar  answered,  but  Richard's  stout  shield 
parried  it. 

"  God  wills  it !  St.  Julien  and  Mary  Kurkuas  !  "  shouted 
the  Norman,  flinging  his  old  battle-cry  in  the  face  of  his 
mortal  foe.  But  the  ruling  powers  would  not  let  these  mad 
spirits  fight  longer.  Suddenly,  in  a  way  none  could  fore- 
see, the  line  of  battle,  as  it  will,  swayed  in  a  great  shock  ; 
and  here  Moslems  were  thrown  back,  here  forward,  and 
comrades  were  torn  asunder.  The  two  were  caught  in  the 
eddy  and  whirled  wide  apart,  bitterly  against  their  wills. 

"The  lance!  The  lance  is  in  danger  !"  the  Christians 
were  shouting ;  and  Richard  saw  the  holy  standard  sink  out 
of  sight  in  the  seething  vortex  of  battling  men  and  beasts. 

"  Rescue,  rescue,  Christian  cavaliers  !  "  Bishop  Adhemar 
was  moaning ;  and  all  unarmed  as  he  was,  the  prelate  was 
about  to  thrust  himself  from  behind  the  protecting  shield 
wall  into  the  death-press.  But  Gaston  of  Beam  and  Die 
and  Orange,  as  well  as  Longsword,  were  before  him.  Rich- 
ard saw  Gaston  snatch  the  lance  out  of  the  clutch  of  two 
Turkomans  who  grasped  it,  and  hew  down  both  —  a  blow 
for  each.  Then  the  lance  was  raised  once  more,  and  all 
Crusaders  praised  God,  and  fought  more  stoutly. 

So  for  long  the  battle  raged ;  no  man  knowing  how  it 
had  fared  farther  down  the  line,  having  wits  only  for  his 
own  struggle,  and  fighting  even  that  blindly.  But  suddenly 
upon  the  wind  black  smoke  came  driving  down  upon  the 
Christians.  At  first  they  scarce  knew  it  in  the  fierce  delir- 
ium. Then  the  smoke  came  denser,  hotter ;  dimming 
their  eyes,  and  setting  all  a-gasping.  And  almost  sooner 
than  the  telling,  the  very  grass  under  their  feet  was  in  a 
flame,  fanned  onward  by  a  breeze  that  dashed  the  fire  in 
their  faces,  while  the  deadly  blast  swept  away  from  the 
Moslems.  Whereupon,  for  the  first  time  that  day,  a  ter- 
rible panic  fell  on  the  Christians,  as  even  the  dead  soil 
seemed  thus  to  rise  up  and  war  against  them.  Men  cast 
down  their  swords  to  flee,  —  all  the  horses  plunged  wildly  ; 
while  with  a  shout  of  triumph,  the  infidels,  blessing  their 
Prophet,  pressed  on  to  snatch  the  victory. 


HOW   LIGHT  SMOTE   DARKNESS  477 

But  at  the  very  moment  when  all  the  world  seemed 
turned  to  ruin,  Bishop  Adhemar  ran  down  the  line  up- 
bearing the  crucifix.  A  hundred  paynim  arrows  sped 
toward  him ;  not  one  flew  true,  for  some  angel  turned  all 
aside. 

"  See !  "  was  his  cry  above  the  howls  of  the  dervishes. 
"  See,  Christians,  the  sufferings  of  your  Lord  !  Stand  fast, 
if  you  would  prove  that  Christ  died  not  in  vain !" 

And  when  the  Franks  thought  of  their  God  upon  the 
tree,  —  of  the  Holy  Agony,  —  their  own  agony  was  forgot. 
Wounded  men,  whose  life  was  running  out  in  blood, 
sprang  to  their  feet  and  fought  like  Roland's  peers ;  those 
who  had  turned  to  flee,  looked  back,  ran  again  into  the 
press  through  the  mad  flames,  and  gave  the  Moslems 
blow  for  blow. 

Yet  this  could  not  last  forever ;  the  limit  to  what  human 
might  could  do  was  very  near.  Denser  the  smoke,  hotter 
the  fire.  Barely  with  all  his  strength  could  Richard  now 
hold  Rollo,  and  he  knew  while  yet  he  fought,  that  unless 
the  smoke  were  turned,  the  boast  of  Kerbogha  would  not 
be  vain.  A  wail  of  despair  was  rising  from  the  Christians  : 
"  Kyrie  eleison  !  Kyrie  eleison  f"  and  the  triumphant 
''Allah  akhbar !  "  of  the  Moslems  seemed  the  sole  answer. 

Then,  even  with  his  sinful  and  corporeal  eyes,  each 
Crusader  had  proof  that  on  his  side  strove  the  Lord  of 
Battles !  For  as  the  smoke  blew  blinding,  with  a  great  gust 
the  wind  changed,  and  the  fire  that  Kilidge  Arslan  had  lit 
for  his  foes'  destruction  turned  to  his  own.  Strong  and 
fresh  from  the  west  came  a  piping  sea-breeze,  and  the 
smoke  swept  in  one  heavy  cloud  into  the  faces  of  the  in- 
fidels !  So  sudden  the  deliverance,  that  the  Franks  stood 
speechless,  marvelling  at  this  great  act  of  God.  And 
while  thus  they  stood,  Bishop  Adhemar  pointed  with  his 
staff  toward  the  northern  hills. 

"  Behold,  Christians !  Three  knights  clothed  in  white 
armor,  the  succor  promised  by  God !  The  martyrs 
George,  Demetrius,  and  Theodore  fight  for  us !  Forward, 
all  who  love  Our  Lord !  " 

Forward   and  ever  forward.     No  faltering   now,  for  it 


478  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

was  the  Moslems  that  were  howling  to  the  Prophet  to  save 
them  from  the  smoke  and  the  flame,  and  were  shrinking 
back  in  panic.  Down  the  line  the  Christian  trumpets  were 
sounding  the  charge,  and  the  news  flew  fast  that  Godfrey 
and  Tancred  were  sweeping  all  before  them,  while  Hugh 
and  Bohemond  held  their  own. 

Then  a  marvellous  madness  seized  the  host  of  Adhemar. 
It  was  midday ;  they  were  starving ;  they  had  fought  for 
life  since  dawn,  but  each  man  felt  his  feet  wings  when 
crossing  that  fire-seared  plain. 

"  God  wills  it !     Death  to  the  infidels  !  " 

At  the  cry  even  the  dervishes  gave  way.  The  onrush 
of  the  Christians  made  the  unbelievers  scatter  to  the  four 
winds ;  the  fleet  desert-steeds  of  the  horsemen,  caught  in 
the  press  and  panic,  struggled  vainly  to  escape  and  lead 
the  flight.  The  Franks  were  upon  them  !  the  Franks  had 
been  granted  victory  by  Allah  !  It  was  fate !  Let  who 
could  shun  his  doom  ! 

"  And  the  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against  Sisera  !  " 
cried  Sebastian,  swinging  his  mace  at  the  head  of  the  St. 
Julien  men  as  they  joined  in  the  onset.  Then  suddenly  as 
had  changed  the  wind,  the  Christians  hardened  their  ranks 
to  endure  again  the  shock ;  for,  brushing  aside  their  fleeing 
comrades,  came  the  white-robed  "  devoted,"  -  —  the  Ismaeli- 
ans,  held  by  Iftikhar  as  a  last  reserve, — sent  forth  to 
snatch  victory  out  of  the  jaws  of  defeat ;  twelve  thousand 
wild  spirits  whose  one  longing  was  to  slay  Christians,  and 
hasten  to  the  embraces  of  the  black-eyed  maids  of  Paradise. 
Fair  upon  the  Frankish  line,  broken  and  disorganized  even 
by  victory,  Iftikhar  flung  his  thunderbolt.  Over  the  dead 
and  over  the  living  charged  the  Ismaelians.  With  them 
went  again  the  battle-shout  raised  by  so  many  Moslem 
armies,  never  in  vain  :  — 

"  La  ilaha  iW  Allah  !     La  ilaJia  UV  Allah  !  " 

"  Bear  up,  Christians !  This  is  the  last  charge  !  "  urged 
Gaston  of  Beam,  but  more  than  brave  words  were  needed 
to  turn  that  blast.  The  "  devoted "  smote  the  Frankish 
spear  hedge,  and  for  the  first  time  that  day  broke  through 
it.  The  Holy  Lance  went  down  under  twenty  slain ;  the 


479 

Christian  war-cry  was  drowned  by  the  howl  of  the 
Ismaelians :  "Allah  akhbar !  Victory!  Victory!"  As 
out  of  a  dream,  Richard  saw  that  the  battle  had  swept 
round  him,  with  only  hostile  faces  on  every  side.  But  he 
had  no  time  to  think  of  peril ;  for  he  was  face  to  face  again 
with  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  himself,  and  at  the  sight  he  sent 
Rollo  straight  against  the  grand  prior. 

"Again!  Cid  Iftikhar,  let  God  judge  between  us  !  "  he 
cried.  But  the  Ismaelian  avoided  the  shock,  swerving  to 
one  side,  and  answered  :  "  Fool !  Allah  has  already  judged  ! 
Take  him  prisoner,  slaves  !  Pluck  him  from  his  horse  !  " 

Nothing  easy ;  for  though  twenty  of  the  "  devoted " 
leaped  to  the  ground  to  do  as  bidden,  they  found  nothing 
sweet  in  the  taste  of  Trenchefer.  Richard  put  the  face  of 
Mary  Kurkuas  before  his  eyes  while  he  fought :  should  he 
never  see  her  more  ?  The  thought  made  his  arm  strong 
as  forged  steel.  But  just  as  the  Ismaelians  were  crying  to 
their  lord  that  the  terrible  Frank  could  never  be  taken 
alive,  and  begging  to  use  their  swords,  a  blow  of  a  mace 
crushed  Longsword's  right  shoulder.  His  arm  sank  at  his 
side,  and  Trenchefer  nigh  dropped  from  the  numbed 
fingers.  He  saved  the  sword  with  his  left  hand,  casting 
away  the  shield. 

"  Yours  !  Seize  !  Bind  !  "  exhorted  Iftikhar.  Yet  even 
now  there  was  a  struggle,  for  Rollo  that  loved  his  master 
well  made  his  great  hoofs  fly  as  he  plunged  and  reared, 
and  Richard's  left  arm  dealt  no  weak  blow. 

"  Cowards  !  "  thundered  the  grand  prior ;  "  let  me  curb 
in  the  horse !  "  But  while  he  pressed  nearer,  a  terrible 
howl  of  dread  went  up  from  the  "  devoted  "  themselves. 

"  Allah  save  us  !    All  is  lost !    The  Christians  conquer !  " 

And  as  Iftikhar  and  Richard  looked  about  them  they 
saw  the  "  battles  "  of  Tancred  and  Godfrey,  that  had  not 
endured  the  Ismaelian's  charge,  bearing  down  in  serried 
line  to  drive  this  last  Moslem  squadron  from  the  field. 

"Turn,  Iftikhar  Eddauleh!"  Louis  de  Valmont's  voice 
was  ringing,  "turn,  and  fight!"  But  Iftikhar  only  gave 
a  bitter  curse,  and  spurred  away  among  his  men.  Adhe- 
mar's  division  had  been  shattered,  not  dispersed.  The 


480  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

Christians  were  pressing  in  on  all  sides.  The  cry  was 
spreading  that  Kilidge  Arslan  was  in  flight.  The  Franks 
saw  Iftikhar  re-forming  his  "  devoted  "  —  much  less  than 
twelve  thousand  now,  though  none  had  fled  away ;  they 
half  heard  the  imprecation  he  called  upon  them  if  they 
rode  in  vain.  They  formed,  they  charged;  each  rider  a 
demon  upon  a  steed  possessed.  They  cast  away  their 
lives  with  an  awful  gladness.  But  the  Christian  spear 
wall  was  as  iron,  though  pressed  by  springing  steel.  There 
was  no  other  charge.  Where  the  Ismaelians  struck,  they 
fought;  where  they  fought,  they  died;  and  where  they 
died,  no  other  Moslems  leaped  to  take  their  place.  The 
thunderbolt  had  fallen  —  the  storm  had  passed! 

And  now  praised  be  God  the  Son,  and  Mary  ever 
Blessed  !  The  infidels  were  become  as  stubble  to  Prince 
Tancred's  sword,  and  to  Bohemond,  Hugh,  and  Godfrey. 
Loud  and  victorious  sounded  now  the  chant,  ever  re- 
peated :  — 

"  Let  God  arise  ;  let  His  enemies  be  scattered  ! " 

And  scattered  they  were  !  "  How  is  it,  Lord  ?  "  said  the 
chronicler ;  "  how  dare  men  say  that  it  was  not  Thy  doings 
that  the  great  host  of  Kerbogha  melted  like  the  spring 
snows  before  us,  when  we  were  weak  with  famine,  and  one 
where  they  were  three  ?  How,  save  by  Thy  help,  did  our 
poor  jaded  steeds  fly  like  eagles  after  their  Arabs,  and 
overtake  those  chargers  swifter  than  the  lightnings  ?  How, 
save  by  Thy  grace,  did  Prince  Tancred  ride  alone  against 
an  hundred,  and  see  them  flee  as  leaves  before  the  gale  ?  " 
How  ?  The  whole  army  knew,  for  the  age  of  doubting 
had  not  come. 

"  Not  unto  us,  Lord ;  not  unto  us  !  But  unto  Thy  name 
be  the  glory !  "  was  the  prayer  of  Adhemar,  as  he  stood 
with  his  priests  about  him,  while  far  to  the  eastward  and 
northward  drifted  the  rout  and  pursuing.  For  there  was 
no  valor  in  the  Moslems  now.  Their  chiefs  fled  swiftest 
of  all ;  one  way  Kerbogha,  another  Dekak  of  Damascus, 
another  Kilidge  Arslan.  And  their  camp  with  a  treasure 
worth  half  the  wealth  of  France,  and  swarming  with 


HOW   LIGHT  SMOTE   DARKNESS  481 

eunuchs  and  harem  women,  had  become  a  spoil  to  the 
servants  of  God  and  His  Christ.  The  thought  however 
was  not  of  spoil,  but  of  pursuit  and  vengeance.  Loudest 
of  all  among  the  priests  sounded  the  voice  of  Sebastian, 
urging  on  the  warriors. 

"  The  heathen  are  sunk  down  into  the  pit  that  they  made  ; 
in  the  net  which  they  made  is  their  own  foot  taken !  Pur- 
sue —  follow  after ;  tarry  not ;  for  this  is  the  acceptable 
day  of  the  Lord  —  the  day  when  one  of  you  shall  chase 
a  thousand ;  when  you  shall  smite  the  infidels  as  Israel 
smote  Amalek  —  man  and  woman,  infant  and  suckling,  ox 
and  sheep,  camel  and  ass !  Destroy,  let  not  one  escape  !  " 

Fierce  and  unflagging  the  pursuit.  Tancred  mounted 
his  footmen  as  swiftly  as  they  could  capture  horses,  and 
hunted  the  fleeing  Moslems  over  plain  and  mountain. 
Here  and  there  the  despairing  Turks  and  Arabians  turned 
like  beasts  at  bay  when  the  terrible  Franks  crashed  on 
them.  But  there  was  no  strength  left  in  a  Moslem's  arm. 
Doom — doom  against  the  servants  of  the  Prophet  had 
been  decreed  by  the  stars  —  not  the  might  of  all  Islam 
could  turn  back  the  stroke  of  fate.  Here  and  there  the 
raging  Christians  came  on  foes  who  cast  down  the  useless 
weapons,  and  stretching  out  their  hands,  cried  in  a  tongue 
which  all  knew:  "Quarter!  Mercy!"  But  they  had 
better  pleaded  with  stones ;  for  that  day  there  was  none 
of  mercy.  The  battle  had  begun  with  the  morning ;  the 
shadows  were  lengthening  on  the  hills  when  Tancred 
turned  back  his  pursuers  near  Harin,  halfway  to  Aleppo, 
and  rode  back  toward  Antioch,  still  galloping,  for  fear 
his  comrades  had  squandered  all  the  spoil. 

Long  before  the  last  chase  was  ended,  Richard  Long- 
sword  had  been  borne  to  the  city.  Despite  his  crushed 
shoulder  and  lifeless  arm,  he  had  urged  on  Rollo  to  the 
pursuit,  almost  hoping  that  he  would  meet  Iftikhar  once 
more ;  though  how,  all  maimed,  he  could  have  fought 
the  Ismaelian,  St.  Michael  only  knew.  He  saw  the  last 
struggle  around  the  encampment  of  Kerbogha,  where  the 
camp-followers  tried  to  defend  the  palisade  and  were  de- 
stroyed by  firing  the  barrier ;  he  saw  the  Christians  drag- 


482  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

ging  out  the  spoil,  —  rarest  silk  and  webs  of  Ind,  and  un- 
priced gems ;  fifteen  thousand  sumpter  camels ;  howling 
slave  girls ;  shivering  servants.  He  knew  that  the  great 
battle,  the  battle  against  the  infidel  he  and  his  fellows  had 
dreamed  of  so  long,  had  been  fought,  and  won ;  and  that 
the  tale  of  the  victory  would  fly  from  Britain  to  Tartary. 
And  yet  he  half  felt  a  sense  of  sadness :  he  had  met 
Iftikhar  Eddauleh  face  to  face,  and  yet  the  Ismaelian  lived. 
They  told  him  that  when  the  last  charge  failed  Iftikhar  had 
turned  his  steed's  head  and  ridden  away,  joining  Kerbogha 
and  the  fleeing  emirs  and  atabegs.  Then  Richard  breathed 
a  deep  curse ;  for  he  knew,  though  no  clear  reason  came, 
that  the  grand  prior,  coward  though  his  flight  had  proven 
him,  would  in  some  way  work  great  ill  either  to  himself  or 
those  he  loved.  He  bade  the  St.  Julieners  search  the  camp 
to  find  if  Mary  Kurkuas  and  Musa  had  been  present  at  the 
battle.  No  trace ;  he  was  at  once  saddened  and  relieved. 
Then,  just  as  the  first  procession  of  triumph,  laden  with 
dainties  and  rich  wines  from  the  camp  for  the  starving  city- 
folk,  was  preparing  to  enter  Antioch,  the  Norman  felt  of 
a  sudden  the  firm  earth  whirling,  and  as  his  sight  dimmed, 
the  din  in  his  ears  drowned  all  the  Glorias  and  7>  Deums 
of  the  rejoicing  multitude.  Herbert  saw  him  reel  on  Rollo's 
back,  and  caught  him  just  as  he  dropped  to  the  earth. 
Sebastian  loosed  his  casque — found  it  full  of  blood;  a 
dervish's  blade  had  cleft  to  the  bone.  His  shoulder  was 
crushed ;  from  ten  more  spots  he  was  bleeding.  The  St. 
Julieners  laid  their  baron  on  a  litter  of  lances  and  bore  him 
to  the  city.  Nor  did  Richard  know  aught  more  for  many 
days. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

HOW   MORGIANA   WOUND    HER   LAST   SPELL 

WRONG  had  been  done  Iftikhar,  when  the  Franks 
boasted  he  had  fled  headlong  with  Kerbogha  and  his 
coward  atabegs.  Had  all  his  peers  in  the  Moslem  host 
fought  as  he,  there  might  have  been  fewer  Christian 
Glorias.  Where  death  was  thickest  he  had  sought  it. 
Under  his  cimeter  had  sped  many  a  Prankish  life.  At 
the  end  he  had  led  the  final  charge  of  his  "  devoted,"  mad- 
dest rider  in  all  that  headlong  band.  But  doom  had  been 
against  him ;  the  Ismaelians  had  died  where  they  could 
not  conquer.  Iftikhar,  escaping  fifty  deaths,  had  thrown 
himself  into  a  band  of  flying  Turkomans,  beseeching, 
threatening,  adjuring,  to  make  them  turn  for  a  last  stand. 
One  howl  met  his  prayer. 

"Fate  is  against  us!  Flee!  Flee!  Allah  aids  the 
Franks ! " 

He  struck  the  fugitives  with  his  cimeter;  they  fled  more 
swiftly.  He  thrust  his  beast  across  their  path ;  the  good 
Arabian  was  nigh  swept  down  in  the  vortex  of  the  panic. 
Panic  everywhere,  the  Franks  flying  after,  each  Chris- 
tian a  raging  jinn  whose  joy  was  slaying. 

Then  at  last  Iftikhar  knew  he  could  do  no  more,  and  he 
turned  the  head  of  his  wounded  steed  to  ride  on  the  Chris- 
tian lances.  But  just  as  he  was  casting  shield  away,  that 
death  might  light  more  quickly,  the  hand  of  a  strange 
rider  plucked  his  saddle  rein,  and  before  the  grand  prior 
could  strike  at  the  unknown,  Zeyneb's  voice  sounded  in 
his  ears  above  the  "  Montjoye  !  "  of  the  onrushing  French  : 

"  What,  Cid  ?     You  ride  to  death  ? " 

483 


484  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"Unhand!"  thundered  Iftikhar,  "all  is  lost!  I  know 
how  to  die  !  " 

But  Zeyneb  with  a  wondrous  strength  had  tugged  at 
the  bits  and  swung  the  charger's  head ;  and  close  by,  the 
Egyptian  saw  another  rider,  unarmored,  in  a  flowing  dress, 
—  but  the  face  was  turned  from  him. 

"  You  are  mad,  lord ! "  cried  Zeyneb.  "  Do  not  cast 
yourself  away.  Fate  will  change,  Allah  willing  !  " 

Then,  as  Iftikhar  struggled  to  turn,  a  squadron  of  flying 
Persian  light  horse  struck  them,  and  swept  the  three 
riders  away  perforce  in  its  flight. 

"Faster,  faster!"  the  Persians  were  shrieking;  "the 
Franks !  Their  horses  are  vultures  !  their  strength  as  of 
monsters  ! " 

Iftikhar  cursed  while  he  strove  vainly  to  escape  them 
and  ride  against  the  pursuers. 

"  Fools,  sons  of  pigs  and  Jews  !  "  roared  he  ;  "  see, 
scarce  ten  men  follow,  and  you  an  hundred.  Turn ;  ride 
them  down ! " 

"They  are  ten  sheytans,"  yelled  the  rest,  spurring 
harder.  "  Speed,  brothers,  speed  !  " 

Iftikhar  glanced  back.  Behind  him  flew  De  Valmont 
and  Tancred,  who  knew  him  by  his  armor,  and  taunted:  — 

"  Face  to  face,  Cid  Iftikhar  ;  did  you  fly  thus  at  Palermo  ? " 

But  the  Persians  pricked  their  beasts  to  a  headlong 
gallop ;  the  Franks  rode  down  some,  and  slew  them ;  the 
rest  made  their  escape.  When  the  Christians  left  the 
chase  in  the  evening,  Iftikhar  found  himself  with  a 
wounded  and  weary  steed  upon  the  bare  Syrian  hill  slope, 
with  only  Zeyneb  for  escort.  The  strangely  dressed  rider 
he  had  noticed,  followed  half  an  arrow  flight  behind ;  but 
the  Egyptian  gave  little  heed.  Hardly  had  he  drawn  rein 
before  another  squadron  of  breathless  riders  joined  him, 
their  horses'  flanks  in  blood  and  foam.  Their  chief  was 
Kerbogha,  master  that  morning  of  two  hundred  thousand 
sword-hands,  master  that  night  of  scarce  fifty.  Iftikhar 
bowed  his  casque  in  gloomy  salutation,  but  the  lord  of 
Mosul  did  not  return  it. 

"  Cid  Iftikhar,"  came  his  words,  cold  as  ice,  "  we  have 


HOW   MORGIANA   WOUND   HER  LAST  SPELL    485 

played  our  chess-game  with  fortune.  Mated!  and  we  play 
no  more  !  Forget  that  I  have  known  you  !  " 

"  I  do  not  understand,  my  lord !  "  protested  Iftikhar,  his 
color  rising. 

"  Clearer,  then,"  and  Kerbogha  peered  backward,  lest 
the  Prankish  banners  tossed  again  in  the  gloaming.  "We 
went  to  Antioch  first  to  crush  the  Franks,  but  also  to 
gather,  unhindered  and  unsuspected,  an  army  to  grind 
Barkyarok  and  the  Kalif.  We  gathered  the  army.  Where 
it  is  now,  demand  of  the  winds  and  the  blood-red  plain ! 
Our  plot  is  ended.  Barkyarok  will  suspect.  Let  Hassan 
Sabah  gain  his  empire  in  his  own  way.  I  must  save  myself 
by  forswearing  the  Ismaelians  and  be  all  loyalty  to  the  arch- 
sultan.  As  for  you,  let  Allah  save  or  slay,  you  are  neither 
friend  nor  foe  to  me.  Go  your  way ;  forget  me,  as  I  for- 
get you ! " 

"But  our  oaths — our  pledge  of  comradeship  till 
death  !  "  urged  Iftikhar,  in  rising  wrath. 

"  Death  ?  A  hundred  thousand  dead  Moslems  have 
wiped  out  the  bond.  Cursed  be  the  day  I  listened  to  your 
plots!  " 

"  Then  answer  sword  to  sword ! "  raged  the  Egyptian, 
in  frenzy,  and  ready  to  join  mortal  grapple.  But  a  shout 
from  the  emir's  escort  sent  Kerbogha  fleeing  away,  without 
so  much  as  replying. 

"  The  Franks  !     They  follow  !     Flight,  flight !  " 

A  false  alarm,  but  the  lord  of  Mosul  and  his  fifty  had 
vanished  in  the  thickening  twilight ;  his  speed  such  that 
the  hoof-beats  were  soon  faint  in  the  distance.  Iftikhar 
looked  about  him.  The  night  was  sowing  the  stars.  The 
young  moon  was  shining  with  its  feathery  crescent.  Far 
and  wide  stretched  the  desolate  hills,  fast  fading  into  one 
black  waste.  Lost !  the  battle  lost !  the  hope  of  em- 
pire lost !  the  vengeance  on  Richard  lost !  the  love  of 
Mary  Kurkuas  lost !  He  had  only  a  wounded  horse,  his 
cimeter,  and  his  arms.  That  morning  twelve  thousand 
men  would  have  died  for  him  at  his  nod.  Yes,  and  had 
died !  It  was  the  stroke  of  doom,  the  doom  that  had  been 
written  a  million  years,  before  Allah  called  the  heavens 


486  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

out  of  smoke,  the  earth  out  of  darkness ;  and  there  was 
no  escaping.  The  Christians  had  turned  back  to  Antioch, 
but  Iftikhar  knew  where  to  find  them.  He  could  ride 
back  on  his  tracks,  enter  their  camp,  slay  seven  men  before 
dying  himself,  and  give  the  lie  to  the  taunts  of  De  Val- 
mont  and  Tancred.  So  doing  he  would  save  one  last 
treasure  —  his  honor. 

"  Zeyneb  !  "  he  said  sternly,  "  go  your  way.  You  are  at 
the  end  of  your  service.  I  must  ride  to  Antioch." 

"  And  why  to  Antioch,  Cid  ?  " 

"  To  win  back  the  honor  you  stole  from  me." 

Iftikhar  had  leaped  to  the  ground  to  tighten  his  girths, 
when  the  strange  rider  came  beside  him  and  dismounted. 
As  he  rose  from  his  task,  he  saw  a  veiled  woman  facing 
him ;  and  while  he  started  and  trembled,  she  swept  the 
veil  from  her  face.  Morgiana  standing  in  the  moonlight ! 

For  an  instant  not  a  word  passed.  Then  Iftikhar  spoke  : 
"  Morgiana,  surely  Eblees  will  gain  you  at  last,  since  he 
sends  you  here."  His  voice  was  shaking  with  towering 
passion. 

"  I  have  come  to  save  you,  my  Cid,"  answered  she. 

"To  save  me?"  burst  from  the  Egyptian.  "To  save 
me  ?  To  drag  down  to  Gehenna  rather ;  to  speed  me  to 
endless  torture !  " 

She  turned  her  face  away.  "  Not  that,"  she  pleaded, 
"  not  that.  Have  I  not  loved  you,  and  been  ever  faithful  ?  " 

He  sprang  at  her,  caught  her  by  the  throat. 

"You  have  indeed  loved  me!  Hearken:  through  your 
love  for  me  you  strengthened  the  Greek  to  resist  me ; 
through  your  love  for  me  you  saved  Richard  and  his  com- 
rades, and  plucked  the  Greek  from  me ;  through  your  love 
the  accursed  Norman  and  Duke  Godfrey  were  able  to 
escape,  to  warn  their  army,  when  ready  to  drop  unresisting 
into  the  net  spread  by  Kerbogha.  This  siege,  this  battle, 
this  loss  of  myriads,  is  your  handiwork  ;  is  yours,  —  and  for 
it  you  shall  die.  Would  to  Allah  I  had  killed  you  long 
ago !  " 

He  had  drawn  his  cimeter,  and  brandished  above  her. 
She  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him  unflinching. 


487 

"  Wallah  !  "  cried  he,  wavering,  "  there  is  magic  in  your 
eyes.  The  sheytans  aid  you  !  Yet  you  shall  die !  " 

Morgiana's  face  was  not  pale  now ;  all  the  blood  had 
returned ;  her  eyes  were  brighter  than  red  coals.  She 
wrested  her  neck  from  his  grasp,  and  caught  his  sword- 
hand,  held  it  fast,  with  a  strange,  giant-like  strength  that 
frighted  him. 

"Strike!"  cried  she;  "but  as  Allah  lives  and  judges, 
first  hear.  Where  are  your  twelve  thousand  ?  I  have  seen 
them  all  dead.  Your  hopes  of  power  ?  Sped  to  the  upper 
air.  And  the  Greek?  Allah  knoweth.  All  these  lost,  but 
not  I.  No,  by  the  All-Great  you  shall  not  strike  until  you 
hear  me  ;  for  I  am  strong  —  stronger  than  you.  I  have 
been  cursed,  but  have  not  replied ;  been  hated,  but  paid  in 
love;  been  wronged,  but  remained  faithful.  Now  hope 
goes  to  ruin;  war,  love,  friends,  —  all  is  lost,  —  saving  I. 
But  me  you  shall  not  lose.  Either  on  earth  you  shall  keep 
me  near,  to  joy  in  your  joys,  to  sorrow  in  your  sorrows ;  or 
dying,  my  spirit  shall  be  yet  closer,  to  follow  your  path  in 
heaven,  earth,  or  hell —  bittering  every  sweet,  trebling  every 
woe,  haunting,  goading,  torturing,  until  you  curse  ten- 
fold the  hour  you  forgot  the  love  of  Morgiana,  maid  of 
Yemen !  " 

And  when  Morgiana  had  spoken,  she  cast  Iftikhar's 
hand  from  her,  and  bowed  her  head,  as  if  waiting  the 
stroke.  But  the  Ismaelian's  arm  had  fallen.  He  stood  as 
in  a  trance,  for  before  his  storm-driven  soul  passed  the 
vision  of  that  Morgiana  of  other  days,  before  the  babe 
died  and  he  set  eyes  on  the  Greek,  —  those  days  when  he 
boasted  he  asked  no  Paradise,  for  the  kiss  of  the  fairest 
houri  was  already  his.  His  sword-arm  trembled.  The 
woman  said  not  a  word,  but  raised  her  eyes  again,  not 
burning,  but  mild  and  tender  he  saw  them  now,  lit  with 
soft  radiance  in  the  dim  moonlight.  He  felt  the  mad  fury 
chained  as  by  some  resistless  spell.  Presently  he  spoke,  the 
words  dragged  as  it  were  from  the  depths  of  his  soul :  — 

"  Some  jinn  is  aiding  you  !  Live  then  this  once.  I 
shall  be  cursed  again  for  sparing." 

Morgiana's  only  answer  was  to  kneel  and  kiss  his  feet. 


488  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

Then  she  rose  and  stood  with  bent  head  and  folded  arms 
waiting  his  wishes.     But  Zeyneb  had  flitted  between. 

"  Cid,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  there  are  horsemen  approach- 
ing, very  likely  Christians ;  the  gallop  is  that  of  heavy 
northern  horses.  Let  us  ride." 

"  Ride  ?  "  asked  the  dazed  Iftikhar,  "  whither  ?  "  And 
he  looked  at  Morgiana.  His  iron  will  was  broken  ;  he  was 
content  to  let  her  lead  him.  She  had  already  remounted. 

"  Toward  Emesa,  my  Cid,"  she  said  directly. 

"  And  what  is  there  ? "  asked  he,  still  dazed. 

"  The  road  to  Egypt.  You  have  still  a  name  and  a 
fame.  All  is  not  lost  while  Allah  gives  life.  You  are 
still  young.  The  Egyptian  kalif  will  rejoice  to  welcome 
such  a  warrior  to  his  service." 

"  Mashallah  !  "  cried  Iftikhar,  raising  his  hands,  "when 
did  you  devise  all  this  for  me  ?  " 

"  Many  days  since,  lord.  For  in  the  hemp  smoke  it 
was  written  Kerbogha  and  the  'devoted'  should  fail." 

"  And  you  have  been  hidden  at  El  Halebah  ? " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  I  have  been  closer  than  you 
dreamed,  in  your  tents  before  Antioch,  concealed  by 
Zeyneb,  to  be  near  you  when  the  need  should  be  great. 
When  the  Christians  stormed  the  camp  I  was  taken  by 
Duke  Godfrey.  In  gratitude  he  set  me  free,  and  gave  me 
a  horse.  I  found  Zeyneb  and  followed  after  you,  that  you 
might  not  cast  your  life  away." 

He  went  up  to  her  as  she  sat  on  the  saddle,  put  his 
arms  about  her,  kissed  her  many  times.  And  upon  that 
Syrian  hillside,  under  the  stars,  Morgiana  found  her  mo- 
ment of  Paradise.  He  said  nothing ;  but  the  Arabian 
laughed  as  she  looked  up  at  the  sky. 

"Praised  be  Allah,  All-merciful,"  she  cried.     "The  old 
is  sped,  the  new  is  waiting.      Mary  the  Greek  is  gone  — 
will  be  forgotten.     May  I  never  hear  word  of  her  again  !  " 

"  I  have  been  blind  to  the  love  of  this  woman,"  muttered 
Iftikhar,  bounding  into  the  saddle ;  "  I  have  been  blind, 
and  Heaven  restores  sight.  Yet  if  Mary  the  Greek  is  to  be 
forgotten,  may  she  never  again  cross  my  path.  But  this  is 
left  to  Allah." 


CHAPTER    XLIII 

HOW    THE    ARMY    SAW   JERUSALEM 

OF  the  weary  days  passed  by  Richard  Longsword  while 
his  wound  was  healing,  of  how  Sebastian  and  Herbert 
bled  him,  poulticed  him  with  poppy  leaves,  and  physicked 
him  with  sage,  there  is  no  time  to  tell.  Neither  is  there 
space  to  relate  the  lesser  misfortunes  that  befell  the  Cru- 
saders, after  the  greatest  misfortune  at  the  hands  of  Ker- 
bogha  had  been  escaped  through  Heaven's  mercy.  For 
in  the  days  that  the  army  waited  in  Antioch  a  great 
plague  fell  upon  it,  which  swept  away  all  the  weak  and 
aged  the  famine  had  spared.  Chief  amongst  those  taken 
was  Bishop  Adhemar,  who  was  not  permitted  in  this 
mortal  body  to  see  the  triumph  of  the  cause  he  loved  so 
well.  There  were  quarrels  and  desertions  amongst  the 
chiefs.  Hugh  of  Vermandois  went  away  to  Constanti- 
nople and  returned  no  more.  Raymond  of  Toulouse,  and 
Bohemond,  who  took  Antioch  for  his  own  principality, 
were  at  strife  unceasing,  —  once  passing  the  lie  before  the 
very  altar.  Thus  the  season  was  wasted,  and  the  host 
frittered  away  its  time  around  Antioch.  Richard  recovered 
and  grew  mightily  impatient.  To  Jerusalem  he  must  go, 
or  the  blood  of  Gilbert  de  Valmont  must  rest  upon  his 
soul.  Long  since  the  desire  of  knightly  adventure  had 
been  fully  sated.  But  his  northern  determination  was  un- 
shaken as  ever.  His  heart  was  always  running  ahead  of 
the  loitering  host.  To  sweeten  his  delay,  a  letter  had 
come  through  a  Jew  merchant  from  Tyre.  Musa's  tale 
had  been  received  in  Kerbogha's  camp ;  he  had  been 
kindly  entreated,  but  he  had  at  once  obtained  transport 
to  Tyre,  whence  he  expected  a  ship  for  Egypt.  Mary 

489 


49o  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

was  well.  In  Egypt  she  would  await  the  end  of  the  war. 
Then,  however  Allah  might  rule  the  issue,  Richard  would 
be  free  to  return  homeward,  and  could  receive  back  Mary 
safe  and  spotless  from  his  brother's  care. 

So  Richard  took  courage,  and  counted  the  days  till  once 
more  he  could  see  the  pleasant  hills  of  Auvergne,  the 
teeming  valley ;  and  dreamed  of  the  hours  when  he  would 
sit  in  the  castle  halls,  with  Mary  at  his  side,  and  how  they 
would  fleet  the  days  under  the  ancient  trees  beside  the 
green-banked  fosse,  forever,  forever.  But  those  blessed 
days  could  not  come  till  the  Holy  City  was  ransomed ; 
and  no  spirit  was  gladder  than  Longsword's  when  the 
host  started  southward  in  the  long-awaited  springtime. 

At  last  the  army  had  begun  its  final  march,  not  an 
emir  drawing  sword  against  it;  for  the  fear  of  Prankish 
valor  had  spread  over  all  Islam.  None  of  the  host  had 
desire  for  besieging  any  city  save  Jerusalem,  and  when 
they  sat  down  before  Archas  they  met  only  discomfiture. 
But  while  before  Archas,  Peter  Barthelmy,  puffed  with 
pride,  vowed  he  would  silence  those  who  ventured  —  after 
safe  lapse  of  time  —  to  doubt  the  miracle  of  the  holy  lance. 
Waxing  confident,  and  boasting  new  visions  from  St. 
Andrew,  he  offered  himself  for  the  ordeal.  In  the  pres- 
ence of  the  whole  host  he  passed  down  a  lane  of  blazing 
fagots.  None  denied  that  he  left  the  flames  alive ;  but 
a  few  days  later  he  was  dead.  "  Impostor,"  cried  the 
Northern  French,  who  said  the  fire  smote  him,  as  being 
a  deceiver.  But  the  Provencals  called  him  a  martyr, 
having  passed  through  the  flames  unhurt,  but  trampled 
down  by  his  enemies  in  the  throng  when  he  came  forth 
from  the  fire.  As  for  Sebastian,  he  would  only  cock  one 
eye,  when  asked  of  the  miracle  of  the  lance,  and  keep 
silence.  Once  Theroulde  said  to  his  face  :  — 

"  Father,  were  you  a  sinful  man,  I  should  say  you  were 
itching  to  peddle  forth  a  good  story." 

But  the  story  Sebastian  never  told. 

Soon  enough  poor  Barthelmy's  fate  was  forgotten.  For 
the  host  was  now  treading  a  soil  made  sacred  by  the  steps 


HOW  THE  ARMY  SAW  JERUSALEM  491 

of  prophets  and  apostles  and  holy  men  of  old.  The  Franks 
forgot  weary  feet,  the  long  journey  and  all  its  pains,  when 
the  march  wound  under  the  rocky  spurs  of  Lebanon,  and 
by  the  green  Sidonian  country.  From  Tyre  they  saw  the 
blue  sea,  behind  whose  distant  sky-line  they  knew  beloved 
France  was  lying.  They  traversed  the  plain  of  Acre, 
climbed  Carmel's  towering  crest.  And  now  the  swiftest 
marching  seemed  feeble.  Jerusalem  was  nigh — Jerusalem, 
the  city  of  God,  goal  of  every  hope,  for  whose  deliver- 
ance-myriads  had  laid  down  their  lives.  The  toilsome 
way  through  Illyria,  the  passage-at-arms  at  Dorylaeum, 
the  march  of  agony  through  "  Burning  Phrygia,"  the  starv- 
ing, the  death  grapple  in  battle,  and  the  pestilence  at 
Antioch — all  forgotten  now!  "God  wills  it!  To  Jeru- 
salem !  "  was  the  cry  that  made  the  eager  steps  press 
onward  from  sun  to  sun ;  and  men  found  the  summer 
nights  too  long  that  held  them  back.  A  strange  ecstasy 
possessed  the  army.  Without  warning  whole  companies 
would  break  out  into  singing,  clashing  their  arms  and 
running  forward  with  holy  gladness. 

"  God  is  with  us  !  The  saints  are  with  us  !  Jerusalem 
is  at  hand  !  "  was  the  shout  that  flew  from  lip  to  lip,  as  the 
host  passed  Sharon,  and  prepared  to  strike  off  from  the 
coast  road  for  the  final  burst  of  speed  across  the  Judean 
plains  to  the  Holy  City.  Richard  rode  on,  as  in  an  un- 
earthly dream.  Half  he  thought  to  see  legions  of  angels 
and  hoary  prophets  rise  from  behind  each  hilltop.  When 
he  set  eyes  on  a  great  boulder,  a  thrill  passed  at  the  thought, 
"  Jesus  Christ  doubtless  has  looked  on  this."  Almost  sac- 
rilege it  was  for  Rollo  to  pound  the  dusty  road ;  blessed 
dust  —  had  it  not  felt  the  mortal  tread  of  fifty  holy  ones, 
now  reigning  in  eternal  light  ? 

So  the  march  hastened.  When  the  dusty  columns  tramped 
through  Lydda,  every  man  beat  his  breast,  and  said  his 
Pater  noster,  in  memory  of  St.  George  the  warrior,  who 
there  had  won  his  martyr's  crown.  At  Ramla  they  halted 
to  adore  the  very  ground  where  Samuel  the  Prophet  of 
God  had  been  born. 

And  now  at  the  end  of  a  day's  march  they  were  only  six- 


492  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

teen  short  miles  from  Jerusalem,  and  the  leaders  held  a 
council.  For  some  who  even  to  the  last  were  faint-hearted 
wished  to  march  past  Jerusalem  and  strike  Egypt,  since  it 
was  said  water  and  provisions  were  failing  about  the  Holy 
City.  But  Godfrey,  standing  in  the  assembly,  said  after 
his  pure,  trustful  manner :  — 

"We  came  to  Palestine,  not  to  smite  the  Egyptian  kalif, 
but  to  free  the  tomb  of  Christ.  Bitterly  reduced  as  we  are 
in  numbers,  let  us  only  go  straight  on.  Will  God,  who 
plucked  us  out  of  the  clutch  of  Kilidge  Arslan  and  .Ker- 
bogha,  suffer  us  to  fail  at  the  last  ?  Up  tents !  weariness, 
away  !  and  forward  this  very  night!  " 

Then  all  the  braver  spirits  cried  with  one  voice  :  "  We  will 
not  fail !  God  wills  it !  "  So  the  order  spread  through 
the  camp,  though  hardly  yet  pitched,  to  march  forward  at 
speed ;  and  when  the  army  heard  it  they  blessed  God,  and 
each  man  strode  his  swiftest  to  be  the  first  to  set  eyes  on 
Jerusalem. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  ninth  of  June  in  the  year  of 
grace  one  thousand  and  ninety-nine ;  three  years  and  a 
half  since  the  great  cry  had  swelled  around  Urban  at  Cler- 
mont,  that  the  Christian  army  set  out  for  this  last  march  to 
the  Holy  City.  The  Christian  army  —  alas  !  not  the  army 
that  had  ridden  forth  from  France,  —  that  had  arrayed 
itself  so  splendidly  on  the  plains  of  Nicaea !  For  of  the 
hundred  thousands,  there  were  scarce  fifty  thousand  left ; 
and  of  these,  twelve  thousand  alone  were  in  full  state  for 
battle.  The  bones  of  the  martyrs  lined  the  long  road 
from  the  Bosphorus  to  Judea.  Many  had  fallen  behind, 
sick ;  many  had  turned  back  craven.  But  the  head  of  an 
army  dies  hardest ;  of  the  twelve  thousand  warriors  that 
pricked  their  weary  steeds  across  the  arid  Syrian  land,  not 
one  but  was  a  man  of  iron  with  a  soul  of  steel.  Bohemond 
and  Hugh  and  Stephen  of  Blois  had  deserted ;  but  Robert 
the  Norman  was  there,  with  Raymond  of  Toulouse,  Tan- 
cred,  and  Godfrey,  bravest  of  the  brave. 

A  little  after  nightfall  they  struck  camp,  with  the  bright 
eastern  stars  twinkling  above  them.  As  they  marched, 
they  saw  before  them  all  the  plains  and  mountains  ablaze, 


HOW  THE  ARMY  SAW  JERUSALEM  493 

where  the  commandant  of  Jerusalem  was  burning  the  out- 
lying villages,  to  desolate  the  country  against  their  coming. 
Richard  Longsword,  who  rode  with  Tancred  and  a  picked 
corps  sent  ahead  to  seize  Bethlehem,  heard  the  tales  of  the 
despairing  native  Christians  who  came  straggling  in  to  greet 
their  deliverers.  They  blessed  the  saints  in  their  uncouth 
Syriac  for  the  help  they  had  awaited  so  long,  and  bade  the 
Franks  be  speedy  with  vengeance ;  for  the  Egyptian  gov- 
ernor was  breathing  out  cruelty  against  the  servants  of 
Christ. 

"  And  who  may  this  commandant  be  ? "  demanded  the 
Norman  of  an  old  peasant  who  spoke  a  little  Greek. 

"  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  once  of  the  cursed  Ismaelians, 
lord,"  answered  the  fugitive,  whimpering  when  he  glanced 
toward  his  blazing  vineyard.  "  Oh  !  press  on,  for  the  love 
of  Christ !  The  Egyptians  have  driven  my  son  and  my 
daughter  like  sheep  inside  of  Jerusalem,  to  hold  as  hos- 
tages. They  say  that  the  emir  even  threatens  to  destroy 
the  tomb  of  Our  Lord  in  his  mad  ragings !  " 

Richard  thundered  out  a  terrible  oath. 

"  Now,  by  the  Trinity  and  Holy  Cross,  God  do  so  to  me 
if  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  long  escape  the  devil!  He,  emir  of 
Jerusalem !  Praised  be  every  saint,  we  shall  yet  stand 
face  to  face  !  " 

And  under  the  starlight  Rollo,  as  if  knowing  that  the 
last  stretch  of  the  weary  road  had  come,  ran  onward  with 
his  long,  unflagging  gallop.  It  was  very  dark  ;  but  the  red 
glare  of  the  villages  was  sure  beacon.  Once  Rollo  stum- 
bled and  barely  recovered.  Longsword  dropped  his  com- 
panions one  by  one.  A  single  thought  possessed  him  now, 
—  over  those  dark,  low-lying  hills,  barely  traced  under  the 
stars,  lay  Jerusalem  —  City  of  God  on  earth  !  And  in  Jeru- 
salem waited  his  mortal  foe,  and  the  vengeance  he  had 
wooed  so  long  !  Vengeance,  sweet  as  the  kiss  of  Mary 
Kurkuas ;  sweeter,  if  so  might  be.  In  his  revery,  as  he 
galloped,  he  saw  neither  hills,  nor  stars,  nor  road ;  he 
dreamed  only  of  Trenchefer  carving  its  way  through  the 
Ismaelian. 

Vengeance,  the  clearing  of  his  vow,  return  to  France,  to 


494  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

love  —  all  these  just  on  before!  Richard  was  lost  in  the 
vision.  Suddenly  the  click  and  thunder  of  a  steed  at 
headlong  pace  shook  him  from  the  revery.  What  rider 
this,  that  gained  on  Rollo  ?  A  voice  through  the  dark- 
ness :  — 

"  Ho  !  friend  ;  why  so  fast  ?     Your  company  !  " 

It  was  the  voice  of  Godfrey.  Richard  had  reined 
instinctively.  The  Duke  was  beside  him. 

"  By  St.  George,  fair  lord,"  cried  the  Norman,  "  where 
is  your  own  corps  ?  Why  ride  you  here  alone  ?  " 

Godfrey  laughed  under  his  helmet. 

"  Could  I  leave  Tancred  the  glory  and  the  boast,  '  I 
first  set  eyes  on  the  Holy  City '  ?  Under  cover  of  the 
dark  I  left  Baldwin  du  Bourg  to  bring  up  my  men,  and 
spurred  forward.  I  knew  that  with  me  would  ride  one 
whose  right  arm  is  none  the  weakest." 

"Forward,  then!"  returned  Richard;  "I  have  joy  in 
your  company,  my  lord." 

"  Please  God,  we  shall  meet  a  few  infidels  and  avenge 
the  burned  villages,"  muttered  Godfrey,  as  they  flew  on. 
"  Ten  paynims  to  one  Christian  are  fair  odds  with  Jerusa- 
lem so  nigh !  " 

But  the  wish  was  unrealized.  They  rode  for  a  while  in 
silence ;  met  no  more  fugitives,  nor  any  of  the  garrison. 
Presently  the  horses  fell  to  a  walk.  The  light  of  the  burn- 
ing hamlets  died  away.  Very  dark  —  only  in  the  farthest 
east  there  was  a  dim  redness.  No  smouldering  farmhouse, 
a  light  brightening  slowly,  slowly.  A  soft  warm  southern 
wind  was  creeping  across  the  plain.  To  the  left  the  twain 
just  saw  black  cedars  massed  in  a  dark  ravine.  There  was 
an  awe  and  hush  on  all  the  earth.  Behind  came  the  clink 
of  arms,  the  click  of  men  and  steeds ;  but  from  Tancred's 
company  drifted  no  murmur.  Who  craved  speech  at  such 
an  hour  ?  Slower  the  steps  of  the  horses.  A  hill  slope 
extended  before — a  blank  form  in  the  dark.  The  wind 
seemed  to  hush  as  they  advanced.  Richard  knew  that 
never  in  all  life  had  awe  possessed  him  more  utterly.  He 
heard  the  water  trickling  in  a  hidden  brooklet.  Out  of  a 
tamarisk  whirred  a  wild  partridge.  How  great  the  noise  ! 


HOW  THE  ARMY  SAW   JERUSALEM  495 

Did  Rollo  know  he  trod  down  holy  ground,  his  great  feet 
fell  so  softly  ?  The  sky  grew  brighter  —  rocks,  trees,  hil- 
locks springing  to  being ;  the  blackness  was  gray,  the  gray 
was  tinged  with  red,  the  stars  were  fading. 

Godfrey  whispered  softly  to  Richard  :  — 

"  From  what  the  pilgrims  say,  we  now  climb  the  Mount 
of  Olives.  Before  us  lies  the  chapel  of  the  Ascension, 
beyond — Jerusalem!  Let  us  kneel  and  pray  that  God 
make  us  worthy  to  behold  His  Holy  City." 

The  two  knights  dismounted,  fell  on  their  knees,  their 
hearts  almost  too  full  even  for  silent  prayer.  "  So  many 
agonies,  so  bitter  loss,  so  many  days  !  At  last !  At  last !  " 
This  was  all  Richard  Longsword  knew.  He  tried  to  con- 
fess his  sins ;  to  say  me  a  culpa,  but  his  one  thought  was 
of  thanksgiving.  With  Godfrey  he  rose  and  led  Rollo  by 
the  bridle  upward.  They  ascended  slowly,  reverently, 
counting  each  rock  and  nestling  olive  tree.  And  with 
their  mounting,  mounted  the  light.  Now  Richard  looked 
back  —  a  wide,  dim  landscape  faded  away  into  the  rosy 
east,  peaks  and  plain,  more  peaks  all  desolate,  and  far- 
thest of  all  a  little  steel-gray  shimmer,  where  he  knew  the 
Dead  Sea  lay.  Still  the  light  strengthened,  making  all  the 
landscape  red  gold ;  the  naked  chalk  rock  to  the  west  lit 
with  living  fire.  Behind  hasted  the  whole  van  —  footmen 
running  abreast  of  the  horsemen,  priests  outstripping  the 
warriors,  and  one  priest  speeding  before  all  —  Sebastian. 
He  overtook  the  two  knights,  breathless  with  his  speed; 
but  the  new  light  not  brighter  than  the  light  in  his  eyes. 
He  said  nothing.  The  three  pressed  forward.  Four  and 
twenty  hours,  barely  halting,  all  had  advanced,  but  who 
was  weary  ? 

Suddenly  the  host  behind  broke  forth  chanting  as  they 
toiled  upward, — the  psalm  tenfold  louder  in  the  morning 
stillness :  — 

"  Great  is  the  Lord,  and  greatly  to  be  praised 
In  the  city  of  our  God,  in  the  mountain  of  His  holiness. 
Beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth, 
Is  Mount  Zion,  on  the  sides  of  the  north, 
The  city  of  the  great  King." 


496  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

The  chant  went  up  to  heaven  and  seemed  to  call  forth 
more  light  from  the  glowing  east.  Suddenly  every  voice 
hushed,  —  silence  as  never  before.  For  all  thoughts  went 
deeper  than  word  or  cry.  The  last  mist  stole  upward,  a 
thin  gray  haze ;  the  sun-ball  hung  behind  the  highest  peak 
of  Moab.  His  tip  crept  above  it;  Longsword  glanced 
back.  A  cry  from  Sebastian  recalled  him. 

"  Jerusalem ! " 

It  came  as  a  great  cry  and  sigh  in  one  from  the  priest. 
He  had  cast  himself  on  the  bare  summit  and  kissed  the 
holy  rock. 

Richard  and  Godfrey  looked  westward,  and  bathed  in 
the  dawn  —  tJiey  saw  the  Holy  City.  They  saw  gray  walls 
and  a  dim  brown  country,  naked  almost  of  tree  or  shrub, 
and  white  houses  peering  above  frowning  battlements. 
Dominating  over  all  they  saw  the  dome  of  the  mosque  on 
the  Sacred  Rock,  —  token  of  the  enemies  of  Christ.  What 
mattered  it  now  ? 

"  Jerusalem !  Jerusalem !  "  the  cry  was  passing  down 
the  line,  and  made  the  climbing  easy  as  though  on  eagle's 
wings. 

"  Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem  !  "  Richard  saw  strong  men 
falling  on  their  faces,  as  had  he.  And  his  and  every 
other's  cheek  was  wet,  for  tears  would  come,  —  no  shame 
when  they  looked  upon  the  city  of  their  risen  Lord  !  Gray 
stones  and  brown  cliffs,  thorns  and  thistles,  dust  and  drought, 
naked  plains,  burned  by  blasting  heat ;  so  be  it !  This  their 
goal,  the  object  of  an  untold  agony !  Could  human  hearts 
be  filled  so  full  and  not  break  ?  Godfrey  flung  his  arms 
about  Richard,  and  their  iron  lips  exchanged  the  kiss  of 
awful  gladness.  Words  they  had  none,  save  that  one 
word.  They  named  the  Holy  City  a  thousand  times  : 
"Jerusalem!  Jerusalem!"  And  men  prayed  God  then 
and  there  to  die,  for  already  their  souls  were  wrapt  to 
heaven.  Tancred  the  haughty,  who  had  just  come  up, 
saw  at  his  side  a  simple  man-at-arms,  a  plodding  peasant's 
son ;  but  the  great  Prince  had  forgotten  all,  save  that  for 
both  one  Saviour  died. 

"My  brother!     My  brother  in  Christ!"    Tancred  was 


HOW   THE   ARMY   SAW   JERUSALEM  497 

pleading,  as  he  gave  the  kiss  of  love,  "  Pray  for  me !  pray 
for  me  !  I  am  a  very  sinful  man  !  " 

They  remained  thus  upon  the  mountain,  weeping  and 
laughing  and  stretching  forth  their  hands,  till  the  sun  had 
risen  far  above  the  mountains.  Had  the  Egyptians  sallied 
forth  to  smite,  scarce  a  sword  would  have  flashed,  so  dear 
seemed  martyrdom.  But  at  length  the  hour  of  transfigura- 
tion was  past.  Godfrey  had  risen  for  the  last  time  from 
his  knees.  He  mounted  and  pointed  with  his  good  sword 
to  the  minarets  and  the  clusters  of  spears  upon  the  lower- 
ing battlements. 

"Forward,  Christians!"  rang  the  command;  "the  in- 
fidels still  hold  the  City  of  God !  Forward !  there  is  yet 
one  fight  to  be  won  in  Our  Lord's  dear  name!  " 

Then  another  cry  thundered  from  the  army,  each  blade 
leaping  from  scabbard  :  — 

"  God  wills  it !  God  wills  it ! "  And  the  unbelievers 
must  have  seen  the  Mount  of  Olives  a  sea  of  flashing  steel, 
while  the  bulwarks  of  Zion  rang  with  the  shouting. 

"  Yes,"  Richard  heard  from  Sebastian,  bowing  low  his 
head,  "  this  truly  is  the  will  of  God !  The  hour  of  my 
deliverance  from  this  evil  world  is  nigh." 

The  ranks  closed,  and  as  the  host  marched  down  the 
slopes  of  Olivet,  the  priests  sang,  advancing :  — 

"  Blessed  City,  heavenly  Salem, 

Vision  dear  of  Peace  and  Love, 
Who  of  living  stones  art  builded, 

Art  the  joy  of  Heaven  above, 
And  with  angel  cohorts  circled, 

As  a  bride  to  earth  doth  move! " 

Then  the  whole  army  rolled  out  the  mighty  Gloria :  — 

"  Laud  and  honor  to  the  Father  ! 

Laud  and  honor  to  the  Son  ! 
Laud  and  honor  to  the  Spirit ! 

Ever  Three  and  ever  One  ! 
Con-substantial,  Co-eternal ! 

While  unending  ages  run!  " 

So  the  cliffs  echoed  back  the  singing,  the  Christian  host 
moved  onward,  driving  the  last  squadrons  of  the  Egyptians 

2K 


498  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

inside  the  walls,  and  sending  divisions  southward  to  raise 
Tancred's  standard  over  Bethlehem.  All  that  day  the 
Crusaders  streamed  over  the  heights  of  Emmaus,  raising 
the  song  of  Isaiah  :  — 

"  Awake,  awake,  O  Jerusalem :  break  forth  into  joy :  put  on  thy 
beautiful  garments :  for  the  Lord  hath  comforted  His  people :  He  hath 
redeemed  Zion." 

But  Richard  had  driven  Rollo  close  to  the  Gate  of  St. 
Stephen,  mocking  a  cloud  of  infidel  arrows,  and  on  the 
walls  directing  the  garrison,  he  had  seen  a  figure  in  gilded 
armor  he  would  have  known  among  ten  thousand.  That 
night,  if  his  vows  against  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  had  been 
strong,  they  were  threefold  stronger  now. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

HOW    MORGIANA    BROUGHT   WARNING 

How,  as  related  in  his  letter,  Musa  had  entered  the  camp 
of  Kerbogha,  made  his  guileful  tale  believed,  and  escaped 
safely  with  Mary  Kurkuas  to  Tyre,  we  have  no  need  to 
tell.  When  the  Spaniard  was  landed  at  that  city,  he 
dreamed  unwisely  that  his  troubles  were  at  an  end.  An 
easy  voyage  to  Damietta,  an  easy  journey  to  Cairo,  and 
at  Cairo  a  spacious  palace  awaited  him  as  emir  in  service 
to  the  Fatimite  Mustaali.  There  the  Greek  could  spend 
the  time  in  quiet  and  luxury  until  the  Crusade  had  run  its 
course.  But,  again,  Musa  was  to  learn  that  the  book  of 
doom  contains  many  things  contrary  to  the  wish  of  man. 
While  at  Tyre  a  letter  came  from  the  omnipotent  grand 
vizier,  Al  Afdhal,  ordering  him  to  hasten  at  once  to  Jeru- 
salem and  assume  the  post  of  second  in  command.  A  high 
honor ;  and  the  vizier  added  that  the  Spaniard  had  been 
given  this  signal  trust,  both  because  all  in  Cairo  had  learned 
to  put  confidence  in  his  valor  and  discretion,  and  because 
the  Christians  would  be  sure  to  reach  the  city  soon,  where 
the  defenders  should  be  familiar  with  their  warfare. 

Musa  spent  half  a  day  in  vain  maledictions  over  this 
letter.  By  refusing  the  kalif's  daughter  he  had  put  his 
neck  in  peril  once ;  to  decline  this  second  honor  would  be 
to  invite  the  bowstring.  Hardly  could  he  bring  himself  to 
lay  his  dilemma  before  the  Greek.  She  had  been  lodged 
with  all  honor  in  the  harem  of  the  Egyptian  governor  of 
the  city,  for  Musa  had  passed  her  before  the  world  as  his 
own  Christian  slave.  When  the  Spaniard  came  to  her,  he 
professed  himself  willing  to  'throw  over  his  position  in 

499 


5oo  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Egypt  and  fly  to  Tunis,  if  she  bade  him.  But  Mary  only 
smiled  and  shook  her  head.  "  Dear  friend,"  said  she, 
"you  shall  go  to  no  more  pains  on  my  behalf.  The  Holy 
Mother  knows  I  spend  many  an  evening  crying  when  I 
think  of  all  the  brave  men,  just  and  base,  who  have  died 
or  run  perils  for  my  sinful  sake." 

"  Then  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  protested  the  Spaniard,  with 
one  of  his  eloquent  gestures.  "  Go  to  Jerusalem  ?  " 

Mary  was  silent  for  a  long  time ;  then  said  directly  :  — 

"  Ah,  Musa,  I  am  Christian  bred,  but  were  all  Moslems 
like  you,  I  could  hate  none.  Leave  that  to  the  priests, 
like  Sebastian !  If  you  go  to  Jerusalem  and  the  Christians 
attack,  as  attack  they  will,  you  will  defend  the  city,  will 
fight  to  the  last  ? " 

Musa  nodded  soberly.  "Would  to  Allah  I  could  do 
anything  else !  But  Jerusalem  is  scarce  less  sacred  to  my 
people  than  to  yours.  To  us  it  is  '  El  Kudsj  the  '  Sanctu- 
ary of  Allah' ;  and  even  /" — and  he  smote  his  breast  — 
"  must  die  in  the  breach  or  on  the  walls  before  an  armed 
Frank  enter ! " 

Mary  looked  at  him,  and  saw  by  his  face  more  than  by 
the  words  that  he  would  indeed  die  if  put  to  the  last  gasp. 

"  Musa,"  she  said  softly,  throwing  that  grave  light  into 
her  eyes  which  had  made  Richard  cry  he  saw  all  heaven 
therein,  "  you  speak  truly.  God  keep  you  safe  ;  but,  Chris- 
tian or  Moslem,  you  must  follow  the  path  that  duty  opens. 
You  must  go  to  Jerusalem,  for  so  your  Allah  clearly 
wills ! " 

"  And,"  protested  the  Spaniard,  "  I  shall  send  you  to 
Cairo  ?  You  will  be  lonely  in  the  great  harem  of  my 
palace,  with  only  servants  and  eunuchs  to  wait  on  you. 
For  I  must  conform  to  the  customs  of  my  country,  and  let 
no  lady  in  my  care  wander  forth." 

Mary  shook  her  head  in  violent  dissent. 

"Why  should  I  not  go  with  you  to  Jerusalem  ?  If  the 
city  falls,  will  not  my  husband  be  at  hand  to  receive  me  ? 
If  the  defence  is  made  good,"-  — she  stared  hard  at  the 
pavement,  —  "I  know  my  Richard  Longsword  will  not  live 
to  see  defeat;  and  then  —  " 


HOW  MORGIANA  BROUGHT  WARNING        501 

She  broke  short ;  her  eyes  were  bright  with  tears. 

"  Wallah  !  what  may  I  say  to  comfort  you  ? "  cried  the 
Andalusian,  in  distress.  But  Mary  sprang  from  the  divan 
and  stood  before  him,  eye  meeting  eye. 

"  Musa,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  am  a  woman,  and  Heaven 
gives  me  a  few  wits.  I  know  well  what  Richard  said  to 
you  that  moment  he  drew  you  aside  before  we  were  parted 
near  Antioch." 

The  Spaniard  reddened  and  stirred  uneasily.  As  if  by 
sympathy,  the  Greek  flushed  also ;  but  she  continued  :  — 

"  Dear  Musa,  we  can  best  speak  plainly  one  to  another. 
Whether  you  have  ever  borne  love  for  woman  as  Richard 
has  borne  love  for  me,  I  greatly  doubt.  Strange  man, 
once  I  was  angry,  even  while  I  blessed  you,  that  when 
so  many  professed  love,  your  only  word  was  friendship. 
But  all  that  is  past  now.  I  am  the  wedded  wife  of  your 
dearest  comrade.  If  he  die,  save  Baron  Hardouin  in 
Provence,  I  have  no  other  friend  in  the  wide  earth  but 
you.  If  Richard  dies,  and  Heaven  is  kind,  I  shall  not  live 
long.  But  people  cannot  die  when  they  wish.  If  my 
husband  is  taken  away,  it  is  right  that  you  should  possess 
me.  I  cannot  give  you  the  deepest  love,  nor  expect  it 
from  you.  But  so  long  as  you  live,  I  shall  be  content  — 
for,  saving  Richard  Longsword,  you  are  the  purest,  noblest 
—  Christian  or  Moslem  —  who  treads  God's  earth." 

Mary  outstretched  her  hand  to  the  Spaniard,  who  did 
not  take  it,  but  knelt  and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  dress. 

"  Star  of  the  Greeks,"  he  said,  smiling  after  his  soft, 
melancholy  way,  "  how  good  that  we  can  look  into  one 
another's  eyes  and  see  'trust'  written  therein.  May  the 
All-Merciful  put  far  the  day  that  will  make  you  other  than 
my  brother's  wife!  But  you  shall  go  to  Jerusalem." 

Mary  pressed  her  hands  to  her  forehead. 

"  Holy  Mother,"  she  cried,  "is  it  mercy  to  send  Richard 
and  Musa  both  to  Jerusalem,  where  one  must  surely  die ! " 

The  Spaniard  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  If  the  Most- 
High  watch  over  my  brother,  waste  no  tears  in  fear  for 
me.  I  shall  live  or  die,  as  is  fated,  and  the  day  of  death 
is  fixed,  be  a  man  on  battle-field  or  on  his  bed." 


502  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"Your  destiny  is  cruel,"  declared  the  Greek.  But  Musa 
answered,  "Destiny  is  the  will  of  Allah,  and  even  the  hard 
things  from  Him  are  sent  in  mercy." 

So  Mary  fared  by  easy  journeys  to  Jerusalem,  and  not 
to  Cairo.  In  the  Holy  City  they  said  the  lieutenant-com- 
mandant kept  a  lady  in  his  harem,  but  that  wakened  no 
comment.  Musa  had  means  and  rank  to  secure  a  comfort- 
able house  on  the  north  of  the  city,  by  the  Gate  of  Herod ; 
to  fit  it  with  all  needful  luxury,  to  provide  Nubian  eunuchs 
and  Syrian  serving-maids.  The  Greek  had  learned  at 
Aleppo  to  be  content  with  the  close  harem  life,  and  Musa 
went  to  all  lengths  to  please  her.  When  he  could  spare 
time,  he  read  and  sang  to  her  all  day  long ;  played  chess 
and  backgammon ;  matched  her  in  contests  of  verse ; 
repeated  his  jugglery  tricks.  He  provided  books  in  plenty 
—  the  Arabian  histories;  Magoudi's  "Prairies  of  Gold," 
the  great  geography;  and  Greek  manuscripts  —  Homer, 
Sophocles,  Plato,  and  more.  The  Spaniard  loved  to  sit  at 
Mary's  feet,  hearing  her  read  in  her  own  rich  native  accent 
the  hexameters  that  throbbed  with  the  wrath  of  Achilles, 
and  all  the  other  stories  of  the  old  pagan  world  so  long 
departed.  Mary  took  all  his  attention  with  a  kind  of  mute 
wonder,  having  long  since  ceased  to  marvel  at  his  devo- 
tion. "Am  I  not  utterly  in  his  power?"  she  would  say  to 
herself.  "Could  he  not  take  me  forever  from  Richard 
Longsword  by  his  mere  wish  ? "  So  she  would  be  silent, 
admiring  the  friendship  that  could  go  to  lengths  like  this. 
For  though  they  constantly  talked  of  the  Norman,  Musa 
never  breathed  a  word  that  was  not  to  Richard's  praise  — 
of  his  valor,  purity,  steadfastness,  and  lofty  purpose,  telling 
Mary  often  that  she  was  wedded  to  the  noblest  cavalier  in 
Frankland  or  Islam. 

So  for  Mary  at  Jerusalem,  as  for  Richard  at  Antioch, 
the  slow  winter  crept  by.  And  in  the  spring  came  the 
news  that  the  Christian  host  was  coming  southward  by 
forced  marches.  Musa's  face  was  sad  when  he  brought 
Mary  the  tidings,  though  it  was  only  what  each  had  ex- 
pected. But  neither  was  prepared  for  the  sudden  thunder- 


HOW   MORGIANA  BROUGHT  WARNING       .503 

bolt  that  crashed  upon  them  just  as  the  Christians  broke 
camp  before  Archas.  A  messenger  came  into  the  city 
from  Cairo,  bringing  word  that  Iftikhar  Eddauleh,  the  one- 
time Ismaelian  chief,  had  landed  at  Alexandria,  been  re- 
ceived with  high  favor  by  the  kalif  and  vizier,  appointed 
to  the  chief  command  at  Jerusalem,  and  was  on  his  way 
thither  with  heavy  reinforcements  for  the  garrison.  Musa 
—  ran  the  vizier's  orders  —  was  to  retain  his  post  as  sec- 
ond ;  and  with  two  such  officers,  so  well  schooled  in  the 
Christians'  mode  of  warfare,  the  kalif  made  no  doubt  of  a 
successful  defence. 

No  opportunity  for  drawing  back  now.  A  new  embassy 
was  being  sent  to  the  Franks  to  try  to  halt  their  march  by 
a  peace  at  the  last  moment.  But  Musa  feared  to  intrust 
it  with  a  letter  for  Richard,  as  the  members  were  all  ap- 
pointed by  Iftikhar  himself,  who  arrived  in  Jerusalem 
almost  as  soon  as  the  first  messenger.  The  Spaniard  pre- 
sented himself  to  his  chief  at  the  Castle  of  David,  the 
mighty  stronghold  on  the  western  wall  of  the  city.  When 
the  two  cavaliers  met  face  to  face,  without  a  word  to  Musa, 
Iftikhar  ordered  every  guard  and  slave  out  of  his  presence, 
and  the  twain  stood  staring  hard  at  one  another  for  a  long 
time  in  silence.  .  Presently  Musa  said  simply:  — 

"  Cid  Iftikhar,  we  have  been  personal  enemies,  and  owe 
each  other  many  a  grudge;  but  this  is  no  time  nor  place 
for  private  broils.  I  am  your  lieutenant,  ready  to  die  in 
defence  of  El  Kuds.  Command  me  in  anything  touching 
my  duty  as  a  soldier,  and  I  obey  to  the  last." 

Iftikhar's  face  was  very  stern  when  he  answered :  — 

"You  say  well,  my  Lord  Musa.  At  a  convenient  time 
Allah  grant  that  I  may  reckon  with  you.  Only  with 
Richard  the  Norman  have  I  an  account  that  is  longer. 
But  to-day  let  us  toil  as  one  man  for  the  defence  of  Jerusa- 
lem ;  for,  as  the  All-Just  reigns,  we  have  no  light  task 
before  us ! " 

"Then,"  asked  the  Spaniard,  "until  the  city  is  saved  we 
are  at  truce  ? " 

"  At  truce,"  assented  Iftikhar,  nodding.  But  he  would 
not  accept  Musa's  proffered  hand.  And  when  the  Spaniard 


5°4 


GOD  WILLS  IT! 


went  back  to  Mary  he  cautioned  her  gravely  to  remain 
close  in  the  harem.  Likewise  he  sent  many  of  his  servants 
out  of  the  city,  retaining  only  those  most  trusty ;  admon- 
ishing all  not  to  breathe  on  the  streets  or  to  their  gossips 
that  a  Grecian  lady  was  lodged  in  his  palace. 

But  now  came  a  series  of  days,  each  more  terrible  for 
Mary  than  the  one  before.  Musa  would  have  told  her  little, 
but  he  found  that  keeping  back  the  news  made  her  grieve 
yet  more;  therefore  he  related  all.  As  the  Franks  ad- 
vanced, Iftikhar  had  sent  out  his  squadrons  and  laid  waste 
the  country  for  leagues  about,  filling  up  the  wells,  scarce 
leaving  one  house  standing,  that  the  Christians  might  find 
no  comfort  or  provision.  On  this  work  Musa  had  ridden, 
though  he  loved  it  little. 

At  last  the  Christians  were  at  hand ;  and  Mary,  looking 
from  her  harem  balcony,  saw  the  hills  covered  with  the 
familiar  Frankish  armor  and  the  white-stoled  priests  and 
the  forest  of  tossing  lances.  But  though  the  eunuchs  and 
city  folk  cowered  and  whimpered,  Mary  knew  the  Egyptian 
garrison  was  made  of  stouter  stuff,  —  not  blind  fanatics, 
like  the  Ismaelians,  but  men  who  would  defend  the  walls 
to  the  last. 

On  the  next  day  Mary  was  fain  to  lie  in  her  chamber, 
stopping  her  ears,  and  pleading  with  every  saint ;  for  the 
Christians  were  assaulting.  Then  at  evening  came  silence. 
Musa  returned,  dust-covered,  his  cheek  bleeding  where  an 
arrow  grazed,  but  safe  ;  and  Mary  knew  the  onslaught  had 
failed.  With  her  own  hands  she  stripped  off  the  weary 
Spaniard's  armor. 

"  The  Christians  rush  on  ruin,"  was  his  bitter  tale. 
"  With  only  one  ladder  they  tried  to  scale.  With  a  second 
they  might  have  mastered.  They  endured  our  rain  of 
bolts,  stones,  and  Greek  fire  as  if  pelted  by  dry  leaves. 
They  have  perished  by  hundreds.  Well  that  Allah  is  all- 
wise  ;  He  alone  knows  the  need  of  this  war !  " 

"  And  Richard  ? "  asked  Mary,  scarce  venturing  the 
word. 

"  I  saw  him  all  reckless,  in  his  open  steel  cap !  My 
heart  turned  to  ice  when  he  began  to  climb  the  ladder  with 


HOW   MORGIANA    BROUGHT  WARNING         505 

Trenchefer  in  his  teeth.  He  laughed  at  our  arrows.  A 
stone  overturned  the  ladder;  he  fell,  then  rose  unhurt 
from  under  a  heap  of  slain,  and  was  about  to  mount  once 
more  when  a  priest — Sebastian,  doubtless  —  dragged  him 
out  of  view." 

Mary  blessed  the  saints  for  this  mercy,  and  was  constant 
in  prayer ;  for  women  could  only  pray  while  strong  men 
had  the  easier  deeds  of  fighting  and  dying.  While  the 
Christians  were  building  their  siege  engines,  there  were  no 
more  assaults.  But  this  only  postponed  the  days  of  evil. 
Mary  could  see  that  Musa  was  laboring  under  extreme 
excitement.  In  her  presence  he  affected  his  old-time  gayety 
and  playful  melancholy.  But  once  she  caught  him  in  an 
unguarded  moment,  gazing  upon  her  so  fixedly,  that  had 
he  been  Iftikhar,  she  would  have  thrilled  with  danger; 
and  once  she  overheard  him  in  his  chamber  crying  aloud 
to  Allah  as  if  beseeching  deliverance  from  some  great 
temptation,  and  from  the  evil  jinns  that  were  tearing  his 
breast. 

"Dear  Musa,"  said  Mary,  "what  is  it  that  makes  you 
grow  so  sad  ?  " 

But  the  only  answer  was  the  gentle  laugh,  and  the 
remark,  "  Wallah,  —  and  with  your  Christians  pressing  us 
night  and  day,  and  all  preparing  for  the  death  grip,  will 
you  marvel  I  am  not  always  merry  ? " 

"  True,"  she  replied ;  "  but  I  know  it  is  not  the  siege  that 
darkens  you." 

Musa  said  nothing.  In  fact  she  saw  him  seldom.  The 
wretched  Jerusalem  Christians  were  kept  at  forced  labor 
on  the  walls,  and  sight  of  their  piteous  state  made  Mary 
hate  all  Moslems  save  the  Spaniard.  Presently  rumor  had 
it  the  Franks  had  completed  their  engines.  Mary  saw  the 
great  procession  around  the  city,  after  the  fashion  of 
the  Israelites  around  Jericho,  —  the  priests,  the  knights, 
the  men-at-arms,  a  great  company  that  marched  from  the 
valley  of  Rephaim,  beside  Calvary,  to  the  Mount  of  Olives, 
where  they  halted  for  exhortings  to  brave  deeds,  by  the 
chieftains  and  priests.  The  hymns  and  brave  words  Mary 
did  not  hear ;  but  she  did  hear  the  blasphemies  of  the 


5o6  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

Moslems,  as  from  the  walls  they  held  up  crosses  in  the 
sight  of  all  the  Christians,  heaping  filth  upon  them,  and 
shouting,  "  Look,  Franks,  look  ;  behold  the  blessed  cross ! " 
But  the  Greek  knew  deep  down  in  her  heart  that  they 
blasphemed  to  their  own  destruction;  and  Musa  half 
shared  her  thought,  when  that  night  he  parted  from  her 
to  go  upon  the  walls. 

"Star  of  the  Greeks,"  he  said,  salaaming,  "the  Christians' 
engines  are  ready,  and  their  host  in  array  to  attack  with  the 
morning.  Allah  alone  knows  what  we  shall  see  by  another 
sunset.  Keep  close  within  the  harem.  I  cannot  return 
until  about  this  time  to-morrow  evening." 

And  he  was  gone,  leaving  Mary  to  pass  a  sleepless  night 
with  awaking  to  a  wretchedness  she  had  never  felt  before. 
Not  dread  for  herself  this  time.  Richard  would  be  face  to 
face  with  death  —  and  Musa!  What  if  both  should  be  cut 
down  !  Then  let  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  or  any  other  demon  in 
mortal  guise  possess  her;  this  world  would  be  one  black- 
ness, and  trifles  would  matter  little.  She  tossed  on  her 
pillow  till  daybreak,  then  r6se  to  greater  misery.  What 
mockery  to  pray;  to  cry  to  God  and  the  saints!  If  they 
were  all  righteous,  why  had  they  created  in  her  that  stub- 
born will  which  would  not  bow  to  their  decree  ?  Under 
her  lattice  in  the  narrow  dirty  streets  the  corps  of  the 
garrison  were  rushing  to  and  fro.  She  could  see  the 
ebon  Ethiopians  clashing  their  huge  targets  and  sabres  as 
they  ran  toward  the  walls,  while  the  war-horns  and  kettle- 
drums blared  and  boomed  unceasingly. 

"This  way,  true  believers!"  came  the  shout.  "The 
Franks  are  advancing.  He  who  speeds  one  Christian  to 
hell  blots  out  ten  thousand  sins ! "  But  over  the  din  of 
arms  sounded  the  cry  of  the  muezzins  from  the  Mosque 
el-Aksa,  and  all  the  other  lesser  fanes,  calling  the  people 
to  prayer.  Looking  up  at  a  minaret  close  by,  Mary  could 
see  the  pigeons  still  nesting  under  the  balcony ;  and  when 
the  waves  of  clangor  hushed  an  instant,  she  could  hear  the 
coo,  coo,  of  mate  to  mate,  as  if  the  brown  earth  were  calm 
and  peaceful  as  the  azure  dome. 

So  the  day  commenced.     As  the  sun  climbed  higher,  the 


HOW  MORGIANA  BROUGHT  WARNING        507 

rock  on  which  Jerusalem  was  founded  trembled  under  the 
crash  of  bursting  war.  Mary,  sitting  upon  the  house  roof, 
could  hear  all  the  tumult  in  the  city  streets,  and  see  the 
garrison  massing  on  the  battlements  by  the  Gate  of  Herod. 

How  long  a  day !  The  eunuchs,  timorous  as  their  mis- 
tress, gave  her  little  heed.  But  a  few  grapes  and  figs 
were  all  the  food  the  Greek  cared  to  touch.  About  the 
third  hour  of  the  morning  she  knew  the  conflict  was 
joined.  From  that  time  till  sunset  the  roar  of  assault  and 
defence  went  up  to  heaven  as  one  continuous  thunder. 
The  shouts  of  Christian  and  Moslem ;  the  crash  of  man- 
gonel and  catapult;  the  hurtling  of  myriad  arrows  and 
stones,  —  all  these  made  a  raging  babel  that  spoke  but  a 
single  word  — "  Death  !  "  For  Mary,  it  was  one  long- 
drawn  terror.  Long  since  had  she,  with  her  woman's  heart, 
ceased  to  care  whether  the  blessed  Christ  or  Allah  reigned 
within  the  bulwarks  of  the  Holy  City.  She  only  knew 
that  her  husband  and  a  man  who  had  become  dearer  to  her 
than  a  brother  were  in  the  midst  of  that  chaos.  Again 
and  again  she  heard  a  mighty  crash  from  the  battlements, 
sounding  above  the  unending  din,  that  told  of  a  triumph 
won  by  besiegers  or  besieged.  Twice  her  heart  leaped  to 
her  throat,  as  shrieking  men  flew  down  the  street,  calling 
on  Allah  to  "  have  mercy ;  the  city  was  taken."  And 
twice  again  others  passed,  bawling  out  their  BismillaJis, 
telling  how  the  Franks  had  been  utterly  crushed.  It  was 
noon,  and  still  the  thunders  grew  louder.  The  third  hour 
after  noon ;  were  the  heavens  of  adamant  that  they  did 
not  crack  asunder  at  the  roaring  ?  The  fourth  hour,  and 
under  the  balcony  galloped  an  Egyptian  officer. 

"Allah  akJibar !  Rejoice,  O  Moslems!  The  Christians 
have  been  repulsed  on  all  hands!"  he  was  proclaiming; 
"  they  will  never  assault  again.  The  Lord  Iftikhar  has 
made  a  sally  from  the  breach,  and  all  their  engines  are 
burning !  " 

"Victory  for  the  true  faith!  Allah  akhbar!"  shouted 
the  squadrons  that  raged  after  him.  "  To  the  gates !  a 
.sally  !  cut  off  the  Franks  ere  they  can  flee  to  the  hills  !  " 

Mary  bowed  her  head.     The  Franks  repulsed,  defeated, 


5o8  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

scattered;  the  Crusade  lost,  and  Richard  Longsword,  - 
never,  the  Greek  knew  well,  would  her  husband  turn  back 
from  a  stricken  field  to  breathe  out  his  fiery  spirit  on  his 
bed.  But  the  clangor  of  arms  and  shouting  did  not  die 
away.  The  sun  was  dropping  lower  now,  but  the  battle 
seemed  blazing  hotter  than  when  the  day  was  young.  In 
the  street  women  and  city-folk  ran  this  way  and  that. 
From  their  cries  Mary  knew  not  what  to  think.  To  re- 
main longer  on  the  housetop  she  could  not,  though  Musa 
commanded  a  thousand  times.  She  must  know  the  worst 
or  die.  The  cowering  maids  and  eunuchs  gave  her  never 
a  thought.  She  cast  a  veil  about  her  face  and  rushed  down 
into  the  street.  The  way  was  plain  before  her.  In  a  great 
press  of  soldiers,  citizens,  and  shrieking  women,  she  was 
swept  on  toward  the  Gate  of  Herod,  scarce  knowing  whither 
she  went.  As  she  moved  on  blindly,  jostled  and  thrust 
about  by  rude  hands,  she  knew  that  the  din  was  lessening, 
the  thunder  from  the  walls  intermitting.  Now,  as  she 
looked  toward  the  battlements,  she  could  see  the  engineers 
making  fast  the  machines,  the  archers  running  from  the 
towers.  Through  the  gate  was  pouring  a  cavalry  corps,  the 
horses  bleeding  and  panting,  the  men  battered  and  bleeding 
also.  Many  bore  shivered  lances ;  many  brandished  red 
blades ;  many  toiled  wearily  on  foot.  It  needed  none  to 
tell  her  that  the  sally  had  failed,  else  why  did  the  great 
gate  clash  to  in  a  twinkling  the  instant  the  last  rider  passed 
under  ?  And  in  through  the  closing  portal  rang  the  good 
French  war-cry,  almost  at  the  riders'  heels,  "  Montjoie  St. 
Denis!"  So  the  Franks  had  been  repulsed,  but  not 
scattered.  The  leaguer  had  not  been  raised.  There  must 
be  other  days  of  horror. 

"  St.  Theodore  guide  me !  "  prayed  Mary  to  herself,  "  I 
must  be  back  instantly.  Musa  would  be  justly  angry  if  he 
found  me  in  this  throng."  And  she  turned  from  the  gate, 
thankful,  yet  fearful.  What  had  befallen  Richard  and 
Musa  that  day  of  blood  ?  The  multitude  surged  backward, 
carrying  her  toward  the  inner  city.  In  the  rude  press  the 
veil  was  swept  from  her  face.  She  knew  that  soldiers  were 
pointing  at  her,  and  passing  the  word  "  Look  —  a  houri !  '* 


HOW  MORGIANA  BROUGHT  WARNING        509 

But  she  heeded  little,  only  forced  her  way  up  the  narrow 
street  to  regain  the  house.  The  throng  made  space  for  her, 
for  they  knew  she  was  an  emir's  lady,  and  many  improper 
deeds  were  forgiven  on  a  day  like  this.  She  reached  the 
friendly  portal ;  reentered  the  harem.  The  cowering  maids 
and  eunuchs  stared  at  her  dishevelled  hair  and  dress,  but 
hardly  knew  that  she  had  been  gone.  Mary  returned  to 
her  post  on  the  housetop,  and  from  the  shouting  in  the 
street  below  learned  that  the  Christian  attack  on  the  walls 
had  been  entirely  repulsed,  but  that  Iftikhar  had  lost  many 
men  in  the  sally.  Just  after  sunset  came  a  cavalryman 
with  a  note  scribbled  on  a  bit  of  dirty  vellum. 

"  Musa  to  the  ever  adorable  Star  of  the  Greeks.  Allah 
has  kept  Richard  Longsword  safe  through  battle.  I  also 
am  well.  I  think  the  Christian  machines  so  wrecked  by 
our  Greek  fire,  no  assaults  will  take  place  for  many  days. 
I  will  come  to  you  before  midnight.  Farewell." 

A  brief  letter,  but  it  made  the  dying  light  on  the  western 
clouds  very  golden  to  Mary  Kurkuas.  So  Richard  lived, 
and  Musa  also.  What  thoughtfulness  of  the  Spaniard 
to  imagine  her  fears  and  send  reassurance !  The  buzzing 
streets  grew  calmer.  She  heard  the  muezzins  calling  the 
evening  "maghrcb  prayer"  over  the  city.  The  eunuchs  had 
so  far  awakened  from  their  terror  as  to  be  able  to  bring  her 
a  few  sweet  cakes  and  some  spiced  wine.  The  Greek  felt 
little  weariness,  despite  her  sleepless  night.  She  would 
await  Musa,  hear  from  him  the  story  of  the  battle,  and  how 
he  knew  Richard  was  well.  With  a  quieting  heart  she  left 
the  roof  balcony,  ordered  a  lamp  in  her  harem  chamber, 
opened  the  book-closet  and  began  to  unroll  her  Pindar. 
She  was  just  losing  herself  in  the  rhythm  and  splendor  of 
a  "  Nemean  "  when  a  eunuch  interrupted  with  his  salaam. 

"A  woman  to  see  the  Citt  Mary, — who  will  not  be 
denied."  Before  Mary  could  answer,  the  curtain  had  been 
thrust  aside,  and  she  saw  in  the  dim  glint  of  the  lamp  the 
face  of  Morgiana ! 


CHAPTER  XLV 

HOW   RICHARD    HAD    SPEECH    WITH    MUSA 

IN  the  days  that  the  Christians  lay  about  Jerusalem, 
after  the  first  assault  had  failed,  Richard  learned  to  know 
every  ring  on  that  gilded  coat  'of  armor  which  shielded 
the  commandant  of  Jerusalem.  Iftikhar  had  borne  a 
charmed  life  those  four  and  twenty  days  of  the  siege ;  a 
thousand  bolts  had  left  him  unscathed ;  his  voice  and 
example  had  been  better  than  five  hundred  bowmen  at 
a  point  of  peril.  Along  with  Iftikhar,  Richard  noted 
a  second  mailed  figure  upon  the  walls,  more  slender  than 
the  emir,  nimble  in  his  sombre  black  mail  as  a  greyhound ; 
and  his  presence  also  fired  the  Egyptians  to  fight  like 
demons.  Longsword  bore  about  in  his  heart  two  resolves, 
to  lay  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  on  his  back  (of  this  he  was  trebly 
resolved)  and  to  discover  who  this  black-armored  warrior 
might  be.  Had  he  never  seen  that  graceful  figure  make 
those  valorous  strokes  before  ?  So  Longsword  nursed  his 
hate  and  his  curiosity,  and  threw  all  his  energy  day  and 
night  into  the  siege  works. 

In  the  days  that  came  it  pleased  Heaven  to  put  a  last  test 
upon  the  faith  and  steadfastness  of  the  army.  Not  even 
in  burning  Phrygia  had  they  parched  more  with  thirst. 
Midsummer,  a  Syrian  sun,  a  country  always  nearly  arid, 
and  all  the  pools  stopped  by  Iftikhar,  ere  he  retired  within 
the  city  ;  —  no  wonder  there  was  misery  ! 

"O  for  one  cooling  drop  from  some  mountain  stream  of 
France !  "  Had  the  army  joined  in  one  prayer,  it  would 
have  been  this.  For  a  skinful  of  fetid  water,  brought  far, 
fetched  three  deniers,  and  when  the  multitude  struggled 

510 


HOW  RICHARD   HAD   SPEECH   WITH   MUSA     511 

around  the  one  fountain  Siloam,  often  as  the  scanty  pool 
bubbled,  what  was  it  among  so  many  ?  To  secure  water 
to  keep  the  breath  in  Rollo,  Richard  went  nigh  to  the  bot- 
tom of  a  lightened  purse ;  and  still  the  heavens  would 
cloud  and  darken  and  clear  away,  bringing  no  rain,  but  only 
the  pitiless  heat. 

In  Phrygia,  and  even  at  Antioch,  men  had  been  able  to 
endure  with  grace.  But  now,  with  victory  all  but  in  their 
grasp,  with  the  Tomb  of  Christ  under  their  very  eyes,  how 
could  mortal  strength  brook  such  delay  ?  Yet  the  work  on 
the  siege  engines  never  slackened.  A  rumor  that  a  re- 
lieving army  was  coming  from  Egypt  made  them  all  speed. 
Out  of  the  bare  country  Northern  determination  and  North- 
ern wit  found  timbers  and  water  and  munitions.  They 
built  catapults  to  cast  arrows,  mangonels  to  fling  rocks. 
Gaston  of  Beam  directed  the  erecting  of  three  huge  mov- 
able towers  for  mounting  the  ramparts.  There  were 
prayers  and  vows  and  exhortations ;  then  on  Thursday, 
the  fourteenth  of  July,  came  the  attack  —  the  repulse. 

It  must  have  been  because  Mary  Kurkuas's  prayers 
availed  with  God  that  Richard  did  not  perish  that  day. 
If  ever  man  sought  destruction,  it  was  he.  When  he  saw 
the  stoutest  barons  shrinking  back,  and  all  the  siege  towers 
shattered  or  fixed  fast,  he  knew  a  sinking  of  heart,  a 
blind  rage  of  despair  as  never  before.  Then  from  the 
Gates  of  Herod  and  St.  Stephen  poured  the  Egyptians  in 
their  sally  to  burn  the  siege  towers.  Longsword  was  in  the 
thickest  of  the  human  whirlpool.  When  he  saw  the  garri- 
son reeling  back,  and  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  trying  vainly  to 
rally,  he  pressed  in  mad  bravado  under  the  very  Gate  of 
Herod,  casting  his  war-cry  in  the  infidels'  teeth.  But 
while  a  hundred  javelins  from  the  walls  spun  round  him, 
of  a  sudden  he  heard  a  name  —  his  own  name,  shouted 
from  the  battlements ;  and  the  blast  of  darts  was  checked 
as  if  by  magic.  The  chieftain  in  the  sombre  armor  had 
sprung  upon  the  crest  of  the  rampart,  had  doffed  his 
casque,  and  was  gesturing  with  his  cimeter. 

"  Musa!  "  cried  the  Norman,  falling  back  a  step,  scarce 
knowing  what  to  hope  or  dread. 


5 12  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

The  Spaniard,  while  ten  thousand  stared  at  him,  friend 
and  foe,  bowed  and  flourished  in  salutation,  then,  snatch- 
ing up  a  light  javelin,  whirled  it  down  into  the  earth  at 
Longsword's  feet. 

"  Death  to  the  infidel !  "  the  Christian  crossbowmen  at 
Richard's  heels  were  crying  as  they  levelled.  But  the  Nor- 
man checked  them  with  the  threat :  — 

"  Die  yourselves  if  a  bolt  flies!  " 

Then  he  drew  the  dart  from  the  ground,  and  removed  a 
scrap  of  parchment  wrapped  round  the  butt. 

"  Be  before  the  Gate  of  Herod  two  hours  after  sunset. 
Bear  the  shield  with  the  St.  Julien  stag,  and  the  sentinels 
will  not  shoot.  Your  wife  is  in  the  city  and  is  well." 

And  while  Richard  read,  the  Spaniard  had  saluted  the 
wondering  Christians  once  more  and  vanished  behind  the 
rampart.  The  Norman  walked  away  with  a  heart  at  once 
very  light  and  very  heavy.  Musa  in  Jerusalem,  Mary  in 
Jerusalem,  Iftikhar  in  Jerusalem !  A  great  battle  waged 
all  day,  and  to  all  seeming  lost, — the  Crusade  a  failure! 
He  heard  men,  who  all  those  awful  years  had  never 
blenched,  whispering  among  themselves  whether  they 
could  make  their  way  to  Joppa  and  escape  to  France,  since 
God  had  turned  His  face  away.  As  he  passed  through 
the  camp,  Tancred  and  Gaston  both  spoke  to  him,  asking 
whether  in  duty  to  their  men  they  ought  to  press  the  siege 
longer.  Should  they  wait,  the  great  Egyptian  army  would 
come,  and  not  a  Christian  would  escape.  But  Richard, 
with  his  vow  and  the  blood  of  Gilbert  de  Valmont  on  his 
soul,  replied :  — 

"  Fair  lords,  answer  each  to  your  own  conscience  ;  as  for 
me,  I  will  see  the  Cross  upon  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  to- 
morrow, or  die.  There  is  no  other  way." 

And  both  of  these  chieftains,  who  had  been  hoping 
against  hope,  answered  stoutly  :  — 

"  Our  Lady  bless  you,  De  St.  Julien !  You  say  well ; 
there  is  no  other  way  for  those  who  love  Christ !  " 

So  Richard  waited  outside  the  Gate  of  Herod  during  the 
soft  gloaming,  while  the  night  grew  silent,  and  when,  after 
the  searchers  for  the  dead  and  dying  had  gone  their 


HOW   RICHARD    HAD   SPEECH   WITH    MUSA     513 

rounds,  naught  was  heard  save  the  whistling  of  the  scorch- 
ing wind  as  it  beat  against  the  walls  and  towers,  laden  with 
the  dust  and  blight  from  the  desert.  No  soldiers'  laughter 
and  chatter  from  the  camp  that  night ;  no  merriment  upon 
the  battlements.  The  Christians  were  numbed  by  their 
defeat ;  the  Moslems  knew  the  storm  had  not  passed. 

Then,  when  it  had  grown  very  dark,  he  heard  a  bird-call 
from  the  gateway,  —  a  second,  —  and  when  he  answered,  a 
figure  unarmed  and  in  a  sombre  caftan  drew  from  the  black- 
ness. The  Norman  and  the  Spaniard  embraced  many 
times  in  profoundest  joy. 

They  sat  together  on  the  timber  of  a  shattered  catapult, 
and  told  each  other  the  tale  of  the  many  things  befallen 
since  they  parted  on  the  hill  before  Antioch. 

"  And  Mary  ?  "  Richard  would  ask  time  and  again. 

"  She  is  more  beautiful  than  the  light,  after  the  tempest 
passes  and  the  rainbow  comes.  We  talk  of  you  daily, 
and  of  her  joy  and  yours  when  the  Crusade  is  ended." 

Richard  groaned  from  the  bottom  of  his  soul. 

"Would  God,"  he  cried,  "my  own  fate  were  woe  or 
weal  to  me,  and  not  to  another.  It  must  have  been  sinful 
to  keep  her  love  after  I  took  the  cross.  For  how  can  I 
have  joy  in  heaven,  if"  —and  he  crossed  himself  —  "I 
am  ever  worthy  to  pass  thither,  thinking  that  Mary  is  in 
tears  ? " 

Musa  pressed  his  hand  tighter. 

"  You  are  sad  to-night.  Why  not  ?  I  know  the  stake 
you  set  on  the  Crusade,  yet  bow  to  the  will  of  Allah. 
What  is  destined  is  destined  by  Him;  what  is  destined  by 
Him  is  right.  Cannot  even  a  Christian  say  that?  You 
have  done  all  that  mortal  man  can ;  the  task  is  too  hard. 
Your  vow  is  cleared.  Return  to  France.  Mary  shall  go 
with  you.  Have  joy  in  St.  Julien,  and  think  of  Musa,  your 
brother,  kindly." 

But  Richard  had  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"  No,  as  God  lives  and  reigns !  "  he  cried,  "  I  will  not 

bow.     We  have  endured  a  great  defeat.     You  know  all ;  I 

betray   no   trust.       Our   towers   are    nigh   wrecked,    our 

throats  are  burned  with  drought,  half  our  fighting-men 

2  L 


5 14  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

are  wounded,  you  have  two  warriors  in  the  city  to  one 
in  our  camp.  But  know  this,  brother  mine  that  you  are: 
we  Franks  differ  from  you  Moslems.  For  in  the  face  of 
disaster  you  cry  '  Doom,'  and  bend  your  necks ;  but  we 
hold  our  heads  proudly  and  cry  '  On,  once  more ! '  And 
so  we  master  very  doom ;  for  there  is  no  doom  to  strong 
men  who  forget  that  black  word  '  fate' !  " 

Musa  put  his  hand  affectionately  around  the  Norman's 
ponderous  shoulders. 

"Verily,  O  Richard,  I  think  if  the  rebel  jinns  were  to 
gather  a  squadron  of  Franks  about  them,  they  could  shake 
even  the  throne  of  Allah  !  " 

"  I  am  in  no  jest,"  replied  Richard,  and  his  tone  told 
that  he  spoke  true.  But  Musa  said,  doubting:  — 

"  I  cannot  believe  you  can  attack  again  before  the  Egyp- 
tian army  comes.  It  is  right  to  fight  so  long  as  there  is 
hope.  Allah  never  commands  men  to  invite  death." 

"Then  answer  this,"  demanded  the  Christian,  hotly; 
"  if  you  lay  in  my  tent,  would  you  turn  back  and  hear  all 
France  say,  '  This  is  one  of  the  cavaliers  who  rode  to  Jeru- 
salem, found  the  paynim  arrows  bitter,  and  rode  away '  ? 
By  the  splendor  of  God,  you  would  die  ten  thousand 
deaths  before!  You  dare  not  deny;  I  know  you  well." 

"  No,  my  brother,"  said  Musa,  very  simply,  "  I  do  not 
deny.  But  for  Mary's  sake  do  not  throw  your  life  away.'"' 

The  Norman  laughed  bitterly. 

"  By  your  '  doom  '  I  perish  as  soon  over  my  cups  at  St. 
Julien  as  on  the  siege  tower  at  Jerusalem.  God  knows 
what  comes  to-morrow.  Tell  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  that  I  ask 
no  greater  favor  from  Heaven  than  to  meet  him  once  more 
face  to  face.  Yet  after  his  craven  flight  at  Antioch  I 
wonder  he  has  courage  to  bear  himself  so  valiantly  on  the 
walls." 

"  I  will  tell  him ;  and  believe  me,  he  was  no  coward,  as 
I  hear,  at  Antioch.  From  his  own  lips  to-day  I  learned 
he  wishes  nothing  better  than  to  meet  you." 

"And  you  will  guard  Mary  from  him?  —  ever?  " 

"While  Allah  grants  me  breath." 

"You  are  a  true   brother,   Musa,  son   of   Abdallah  !  " 


HOW  RICHARD   HAD  SPEECH   WITH   MUSA     515 

cried  the  Norman,  pressing  the  other's  hand  in  a  grasp 
that  brought  pain  even  to  those  fingers  of  steel.  "  Some- 
times I  think  you  are  a  better  friend  to  me  than  I  to 
myself." 

"And  no  message  for  Mary?"  asked  the  Spaniard, 
softly. 

Richard  drew  his  hand  across  his  face.  He  did  not 
speak  for  a  long  while.  Then  the  words  came  very 
slowly :  — 

"  Either  to-morrow  at  this  time  we  are  masters  of  the 
city,  or  you  can  know  that  I  am  discharged  forever  of  all 
vows  and  warfare.  Does  Mary  know  what  we  said  to- 
gether, at  parting  at  Antioch  ? " 

"  She  knows.     And  she  accepts." 

"  That  is  well.  Tell  her  I  can  leave  only  this  message  : 
'  I  have  from  the  hour  I  left  her  carried  myself  as  became 
a  Christian  cavalier.  I  have  prayed  for  grace  to  live  and 
grace  to  die.  I  know  that  after  the  first  pain  is  past 
she  will  wonder  why  she  ever  had  love  for  the  rude 
Prankish  baron,  when  she  has  the  favor  of  the  most  gal- 
lant emir,  the  most  courtly  prince,  the  purest-hearted  man, 
Christian  or  Moslem.'  For  though  you  cannot  yearn  for 
her  with  the  fire  that  burns  in  me,  I  can  trust  you  never  to 
let  her  grow  hungry  for  love." 

"Yes:  but—  "  Musa  laughed  a  little  nervously  —  "but 
if  the  city  is  taken  ?  What  of  me  ?  Will  you  lead  me  in 
fetters  back  to  St.  Julien  ?  " 

Richard  saw  the  implication. 

"No,  by  St.  George,"  he  protested,  "you  shall  not  die! 
I  will  go  to  every  friend,  and  I  have  many,  and  beseech 
them  if  we  conquer  to  spare  you." 

Musa  only  laughed  again. 

"  And  where  you  would  scorn  to  live,  I  must  hold 
back  ? " 

Both  were  silent ;  for  they  saw  the  inevitable  issue. 
Then  Musa  spoke  again:  "Again  I  say  it,  what  is 
doomed,  is  doomed.  We  are  in  the  Most  High's  hands. 
So  long  as  you  bear  your  St.  Julien  shield  I  shall  know 
you,  and  if  we  meet  no  blows  shall  pass.  But  wear  a 


5i6  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

closed  helmet.     I  quaked  when  I  saw  you  mocking  the 
arrows  in  your  open  casque." 

Both  were  standing.  There  was  nothing  more  to  say. 
Richard's  heart  was  very  sad,  but  Musa  comforted. 

"No  fears  —  is  not  Allah  over  us  both?     Will  He  not 
dispose   all   aright,  —  to-night,  —  to-morrow,  —  forever,  — 
though  we  may  not  see  the  path  ? " 

The  two  men  embraced  ;  and,  without  another  word, 
Richard  saw  the  form  of  Musa  vanish  into  the  darkness. 

Of  all  the  councils  of  the  chiefs,  none  at  Antioch  was 
so  gloomy  as  the  one  held  the  night  after  that  day  of 
battle  and  defeat.  Duke  Robert  the  Norman  spoke  for 
all  when  he  cried  in  his  agony  :  — 

"  Miserable  men  are  we  !  God  judges  us  unworthy  to 
enter  His  Holy  City  !  " 

"  Have  we  endured  all  this  pain  in  vain  ?  "  answered 
Godfrey.  "  Unworthy  we  are,  but  do  we  not  fight  for  the 
glory  of  Christ  ?  " 

"  We  have  fought  stoutly  as  mortal  men  may  !  "  groaned 
the  son  of  William  the  Bastard.  "  Twice  repulsed,  half 
our  men  slain,  our  towers  wrecked.  Where  are  my  brave 
cavaliers  from  Rouen  and  Harfleur  ?  Dead  —  dead  ;  all 
who  were  not  happy  and  died  on  the  march !  " 

Then  silence,  while  the  red  torches  in  Godfrey's  tent 
flickered.  Robert  the  Norman  bowed  his  head  and  wept, 
sobbed  even  as  a  child. 

But  Robert,  Count  of  Flanders,  broke  out  madly :  - 

"  By  St.  Nicholas  of  Ghent,  why  sit  we  here  as  speech- 
less oxen  ?  Let  us  either  curse  God  and  the  false  monks 
who  led  us  on  this  devil's  dance,  and  every  man  speed 
back  to  his  own  seigneury,  if  so  Satan  aid  him  ;  or  let  us  have 
an  end  of  croaks  and  groans,  bear  our  hurts  with  set  teeth, 
and  have  Jerusalem,  though  we  pluck  down  the  wall 
with  our  naked  hands."  But  not  an  answer  or  token 
followed  his  outburst ;  and  after  a  pause  he  added  bitterly  : 
"  Yes,  fair  lords ;  my  cousin  of  Normandy  speaks  well ; 
we  are  unworthy  to  deliver  the  Holy  City.  Let  us  go 
back  to  dear  France,  and  think  of  our  sins."  Still  silence; 


HOW   RICHARD   HAD  SPEECH   WITH   MUSA     517 

and  then,  with  an  ominous  tread,  Gaston  of  Beam  entered, 
in  full  armor  and  with  drawn  sword. 

"  Good  brothers,"  quoth  he,  gazing  about  a  little  blankly, 
and  meeting  only  blank  helplessness,  "  I,  who  hold  the 
lines  while  you  counsel,  have  only  one  word  —  speed. 
The  rumor  passes  that  the  siege  is  to  be  raised,  the  Cru- 
sade abandoned.  Half  the  army  is  ready  to  fly.  Breathe 
it  once,  and  the  shout  will  be,  '  For  France ! '  —  and  the 
host  scatters  like  sheep  toward  Joppa ;  while  those  more 
devoutly  minded  will  cast  their  naked  breasts  on  the  Mos- 
lems' spears  to  earn  martyrdom  in  place  of  victory." 

Godfrey  roused  himself  by  a  great  effort. 

"As  God  lives,"  he  protested,  "we  cannot  suffer  the 
Crusade  to  fail.  We  cannot  say  to  all  the  widows  and 
orphans  of  France,  'Your  husband,  your  father,  died  like 
headstrong  fools.' " 

"  We  have  wrought  all  that  the  paladins  of  Charlemagne 
wrought,  and  more,"  tossed  back  Robert  the  Norman, 
hopelessly. 

A  voice  lower  down  amongst  the  lesser  chiefs  interrupted : 

"You  are  wrong,  my  lord  of  Normandy." 

The  Conqueror's  son  rose  in  his  dignity. 

"  Wrong  ?  Who  speaks  ?  I  will  not  have  my  honor 
questioned." 

The  others  saw  Richard  Longsword  rising  also.  His  face 
was  very  set  and  stern,  he  held  his  head  proudly. 

"  I  say  it,  '  You  are  wrong.'  No  man  has  done  all  that 
the  paladins  of  old  have  done  until,  like  them,  he  stops 
prating  of  the  anger  of  God,  and  dies  with  his  face  toward 
the  paynim  and  twenty  slain  around.  Take  heed,  my 
lords,  lest  we  think  too  much  of  our  unworthiness,  too 
little  of  the  captivity  of  the  Tomb  of  Our  Lord ;  and  how 
in  freeing  it  the  price  of  all  our  sins  is  paid.  I  did  not 
come  to  council  to  learn  how  to  lead  my  men  to  Joppa, 
but  how  we  were  one  and  all  to  mount  the  breach,  or 
perish  in  the  moat." 

There  was  a  ring  in  Richard's  voice  hard  as  the 
beaten  anvil ;  and,  before  Robert  could  reply,  more  than 
one  voice  cried :  "  So  say  I !  And  I !  Never  can  we 


5i8  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

slink  back,  and  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  women  of 
France!" 

"  I  cry  pardon,  fair  lords,"  said  Longsword.  "  I  am  a 
young  knight  to  instruct  my  betters."  But  Godfrey 
answered  him  :  — 

"  There  is  none  of  us  too  great  to  listen  to  brave  words 
like  these  ;  "  and  Tancred,  leaping  up,  added  :  "  Yes,  by 
God's  help  I  will  make  it  good  on  my  body  against  any  who 
cry  '  backward,'  till  the  city  be  won.  Away  with  all  these 
bats  of  darkness  that  are  lighting  on  our  heads !  How 
does  the  night  advance  ? " 

"  By  the  stars,  midnight,"  answered  Gaston,  just  en- 
tered. 

"  Good,"  ran  on  the  Prince,  sweeping  all  before  him. 
"  Pass  the  word  through  the  host  that  we  assault  at  dawn. 
Let  every  spare  hand  work  to  repair  the  towers.  Let  the 
rest  sleep.  We  can  make  shift  to  move  my  Lord  God- 
frey's tower.  If  we  have  suffered  without  the  walls,  rest 
assured  the  infidels  have  splintered  some  bones  within." 
The  ebb  tide  had  turned.  The  flood  ran  swiftly  now. 

"God  wills  it!  Attack  with  the  morning!"  the  two 
Roberts  were  crying,  as  loud  as  the  rest.  And  others 
shouted  :  — 

"  An  end  to  divisions.  Let  us  have  one  leader  !  Let  us 
proclaim  Godfrey  king.  To-morrow  we  will  crown  him  in 
Jerusalem  ! " 

But  the  pure-hearted  Duke  beckoned  for  silence,  and 
answered :  "  God  forbid,  dear  brothers,  that  I  should  be 
styled  'sire,'  and  wear  crown  of  gold,  where  my  Saviour 
was  spit  upon  and  crowned  with  thorns.  We  have  one 
work  now  —  to  storm  the  city." 

"  The  infidels  are  attacking  the  machines !  "  thundered 
Raimbaud  of  Orange,  from  the  tent  door.  "  To  the  res- 
cue, fair  lords ! " 

"  Rescue !  Rescue !  "  cried  all,  flying  forth  with  drawn 
swords.  And  while  Raymond  and  Tancred  went  to  beat 
back  the  sally,  Richard  found  himself  close  to  Godfrey. 
"  Our  Lady  bless  you,  De  St.  Julien,"  said  Bouillon,  grasp- 
ing Richard's  hand.  "  It  was  only  a  word  you  said  ;  but  a 


HOW   RICHARD   HAD   SPEECH    WITH   MUSA     519 

word  in  season  will  raise  or  pluck  down  kingdoms.  How 
shall  I  reward  you  ?  I  was  near  despair  when  I  saw  the 
gloom  settling  ever  blacker  over  the  council." 

"  Only  this,  fair  Duke,  that  I  may  be  in  the  front  of  the 
assault." 

"  Rashest  of  the  rash !  Some  day  the  saints  will  grow 
weary  of  protecting  you,  and  you  will  be  slain." 

"  What  matter,  if  all  else  is  well  ? " 

So  Richard  hastened  off  into  the  night,  found  his  own 
encampment  in  the  maze  of  tents,  and  told  his  men  there 
was  to  be  no  retreat  —  that  with  the  morning  the  storm 
would  be  renewed. 

"  And  will  you  follow  your  seigneur,  now  as  ever  ?  "  was 
his  question  to  the  fifty  gaunt,  mailed  figures  (all  of  his  five 
hundred  that  were  left)  that  grouped  before  the  dying  camp- 
fire. 

"Through  all  hell, — though  each  Moslem  were  a 
thousand  devils  !  "  answered  De  Carnac ;  and  every  St. 
Julien  man  roared  forth  "Amen!" 

"  Good !  "  returned  their  lord.  "  And  by  St.  Michael,  you 
shall  have  chance  to  prove  your  vow  ! " 

Then,  having  heard  that  the  sortie  was  repulsed,  Richard 
went  to  his  own  tent.  He  found  Sebastian  sitting  by  the 
doorway.  As  the  young  Baron  entered,  the  priest  without 
a  word  arose  and  kissed  him  gently  on  either  cheek.  And 
even  in  the  dim  firelight  Richard  could  see  a  wonderful 
glow  of  peace  and  joy  upon  the  face  of  the  ascetic.  "Dear 
father,"  said  he,  wondering,  "what  happiness  has  come, 
that  you  seem  so  glad  ?  And  why  is  it  thus  you  kiss  me  ? " 

Whereupon  Sebastian  put  his  arm  about  Richard's  neck, 
stroking  his  hair  with  the  other  hand,  and  at  last  said  very 
softly,  "  I  have  had  a  vision." 

"  A  vision  ? "  And  Richard  smiled  amid  the  darkness, 
for  Sebastian's  visions  came  every  other  night.  But  the 
priest  only  continued,  guessing  his  thought :  "  No,  your 
lips  need  not  twitch.  For  this  vision  was  of  a  manner  dif- 
ferent from  any  that  I  have  ever  seen  before.  As  I  lay 
here,  of  a  sudden  I  woke,  and  saw  the  dim  camp-fire  and 
stars  glitter  as  I  see  now,  and  heard  the  chatter  and  groan- 


5 2o  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

ing  of  the  men.  But  of  a  sudden  a  youth,  clothed  in  a 
whiteness  passing  snow,  bright  and  with  wings,  stood  by 
me,  and  said  most  gently,  'Sebastian.'  And  I  answered: 
'  Yes,  Lord.  What  may  I  do  in  Thy  service  ? '  And  he 
replied :  '  Be  of  good  cheer.  God  hath  seen  thy  good 
works,  and  how  thou  hast  crucified  the  flesh  and  all  carnal 
lusts,  and  knowest  how  thou  hast  wrestled  in  prayer.  Now 
rejoice ;  the  end  of  thy  toil  in  this  evil  world  draws  nigh. 
But  before  thou  shalt  see  with  the  eyes  of  the  spirit  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem  and  the  blessed  host,  with  thy  mortal 
eyes  thou  shalt  see  the  Cross  triumphant  on  the  walls  of 
the  earthly  Jerusalem.  And  this  hour  comes  quickly.' 
Then  while  I  lay  in  bliss  unspeakable  he  had  vanished." 
Richard  was  very  grave. 

"  Dear  father,  you  do  not  long  for  heaven  so  much  that 
you  would  leave  me?  " 

But  Sebastian  answered  softly :  "  It  shall  be  as  God  wills. 
You  will  be  comforted.  It  is  written,  '  He  giveth  His  be- 
loved sleep '  —  sleep  after  the  toil  and  the  pain  and  the 
crushing  of  sinful  self.  And  then  to  wake  and  see  our 
dear  Lord's  blessed  face !  You  would  not  grudge  me 
that  ? " 

"  No,  dear  father,"  said  Richard,  submissively  ;  "  but  yet 
I  pray  God  will  ordain  otherwise."  Sebastian  only  kissed 
him  again,  lay  down  on  the  hard  earth,  and  was  soon  in 
quiet  sleep.  Longsword  went  to  his  men,  told  them  to 
sleep  also,  for  they  must  rise  with  dawn.  But  as  for  him- 
self his  eyes  were  not  heavy,  despite  the  terrible  day.  As 
Herbert  lay  dozing,  he  heard  from  his  master's  tent  the 
ominous  click,  click,  of  a  whetstone.  "The  'little  lord'  is 
sharpening  Trenchefer,"  muttered  the  man-at-arms.  "  The 
devil  help  the  Moslems  who  stand  in  his  path  to-morrow. 
The  devil  help  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  if  the  two  come  face  to 
face." 

Richard  sat  in  the  dark,  the  great  sword  across  his  lap, 
handling  it  lovingly,  smoothing  each  rust-speck  that  touched 
his  finger's  nail,  making  the  long  blade  razor-keen.  And 
had  a  lamp  flashed  on  his  face,  his  features  would  have 
showed  harder  than  his  blade.  His  heart  was  at  peace  — 


HOW    RICHARD    HAD   SPEECH    WITH    MUSA     521 

at  peace  with  an  awful  gladness.  Father,  mother,  sister, 
brother,  were  all  to  be  avenged  on  the  morrow  when  he 
fronted  Iftikhar  Eddauleh.  That  some  saint  would  aid 
him  to  meet  the  Egyptian  he  did  not  doubt.  And  then  ? 
But  Richard  never  so  much  as  wondered  what  would 
befall,  after  Trenchefer  had  smitten  once  and  fairly  on 
that  gilded  mail. 


CHAPTER   XLVI 

HOW    IFTIKHAR    CEASED    FROM    TROUBLING 

WHEN  the  Arabian's  eyes  lit  upon  Mary,  Morgiana  gave 
a  little  cry,  ran  to  the  Greek,  and  caught  her  in  her  arms. 
For  a  moment  the  two  were  so  wrapt  in  the  joy  of  meeting 
that  all  else  was  forgot.  But  quick  as  the  first  flood  of 
gladness  passed,  Morgiana  broke  forth  with  the  eager  de- 
mand :  — 

"  Musa  ?  Musa  ?  where  is  the  Spanish  emir  ? " 

"  Upon  the  walls,  where  are  all  the  chieftains,"  was  the 
wondering  Greek's  answer. 

"  Wallah!  and  when  will  he  return  ?  "  ran  on  Morgiana, 
beginning  to  tremble  as  Mary  held  her,  as  though  in  some 
mastering  dread. 

"  I  do  not  know  ;  at  any  time,  — now,  —  or  not  till  mid- 
night. Dear  God  —  what  has  befallen  ?  what  may  I  do  ? 
You  are  turning  pale,  and  your  hands  are  cold !  " 

"  Allah  have  mercy  on  us  both,  unless  Musa  comes ! 
Iftikhar  has  discovered  you !  "  cried  Morgiana,  calming 
herself  with  a  mighty  effort.  And  now  it  was  the  Greek's 
turn  to  tremble. 

"Iftikhar?" — the  word  came  across  her  pallid  lips 
faint  as  a  dying  groan.  "  How  ?  When  ?  Speak,  as  you 
love  me  — 

Morgiana  thrust  back  the  dark  hair  that  had  fallen  over 
her  eyes,  and  drew  herself  up  half  scornfully. 

"  Foolish  woman  !  Is  there  not  sorrow  enough,  that 
you  need  make  more?  Why  did  you  wander  into  the 
streets  at  sundown  ?  Why  did  you  let  the  veil  slip  from 
your  face  ?  Zeyneb,  my  foster-brother,  whom  the  sheytans 
love  and  the  angels  hate,  looked  on  you,  —  followed  you,  — 

522 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   CEASED    FROM  TROUBLING     523 

saw  you  enter  the  house,  and  sped  straight  to  Iftikhar ! 
Speak  —  speak  —  "  and  the  Arabian  plucked  at  Mary's 
arm  fiercely,  while  in  her  eyes  was  again  the  mad  gleam 
of  old.  "  Why  should  I  not  curse  you  ?  you  who  have 
wronged  me,  utterly !  When  I  was  just  winning  back 
Iftikhar's  love,  and  all  the  evil  past  was  being  forgot !  —  now 
—  now  I  have  lost  him  once  more.  And  you — you  are  my 
ruin.  As  Allah  lives  I  will  curse  you,  and  your  lily-white 
beauty! " 

Mary  was  indeed  white  as  the  lily,  or  whiter,  if  that  may 
be ;  but  she  caught  both  of  Morgiana's  wrists  and  held 
fast.  Under  the  calm  influence  shed  from  her  eyes  the 
Arabian's  wandering  gaze  grew  steady. 

"Enough!"  —  she  cut  the  other  short  —  "you  did  not 
come  hither  only  for  maledictions.  How  have  you  learned  ? 
What  will  Iftikhar  do  ?  " 

"  Learned  ?  "  —  Morgiana  threw  back  her  head  and 
laughed.  "  I  heard  Zeyneb  repeating  all  to  Iftikhar.  Do? 
I  only  saw  the  Egyptian's  face  —  the  passion,  the  longing, 
the  hate.  He  will  come  to  seize  you  without  delay.  Not 
even  Musa  can  save  you.  Is  not  Iftikhar  lord  of  Jeru- 
salem ?  I  wonder  he  is  not  here  already,  finding  I  have 
fled  his  harem  at  the  Castle  of  David." 

But  Mary  remained  calm. 

"Tell  me,  my  sister,  what  am  I  to  do?  You  are  all 
wits.  Better  death  by  fire  than  one  touch  from  Iftikhar." 

"The  Christian  camp,"  pleaded  the  Arabian.  "There 
are  friends,  your  husband,  safety.  Oh,  were  but  Musa 
here,  you  could  be  sent  without  the  walls  ere  it  is  too  late." 

"  By  the  water-clock  it  lacks  midnight  an  hour,"  said 
Mary,  quietly.     "The  Spaniard  may  be  here  any  moment. 
But  I  cannot  dream  that  Iftikhar,  at  a  time  like  this,  — 
with  the  very  city  at  stake,  —  will  forget  all,  quit  his  duty 
on  the  walls,  to  tear  a  defenceless  maid  away  to  his  harem." 

Morgiana  laughed  again,  very  bitterly.  "  Fool  you  are, 
in  very  truth  !  Iftikhar  cares  more  for  the  lashes  of  your 
eyes  than  for  a  thousand  Jerusalems,  —  for  a  thousand  of 
his  own  lives.  You  will  be  at  his  mercy  before  daybreak, 
though  the  Christian  cavaliers  sack  the  city." 


524  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

There  was  the  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  pavement,  a  shout- 
ing, a  clang  of  armor  and  arms.  Mary  gave  a  great  sigh 
of  relief.  "  Musa ;  he  has  come  from  the  walls  with  his 
guard."  But  Morgiana  blasted  the  hope  with  one  cry : 
"Hear!  The  Egyptian's  voice!"  And  Mary  reeled  as 
she  stood ;  for  she  heard  a  voice  she  knew  right  well  thun- 
dering, "  Guard  the  house  about,  and  down  with  the  door." 
Then  came  the  resounding  knock  of  a  cimeter-hilt  on  the 
portal.  The  Greek  sprang  to  the  lattice  over  the  street. 
In  the  narrow  way  below  were  fifty  Soudanese  negroes, 
with  ruddy  torches,  tossing  their  spiked  flails  and  spears ; 
while  beating  at  the  door  was  a  lordly  figure  in  gilded 
armor  —  Iftikhar  himself. 

Morgiana  saw  Mary  trying  to  speak  to  her;  at  least  the 
lips  moved.  The  blows  on  the  portal  redoubled. 

"  Open,  open,  or  I  kill  you  all !  "  rang  Iftikhar's  com- 
mand, sounding  above  his  own  strokes.  The  eunuchs  and 
maids  of  the  household  ran  chattering  and  screaming  from 
the  lower  rooms,  as  if  they  might  find  protection  beside 
their  mistress. 

"There  is  no  hope,"  said  Morgiana,  sullenly,  holding 
down  her  face ;  "  we  have  both  played  our  game,  and  we 
have  lost." 

And  the  Arabian,  all  the  fire  and  steel  gone  out  of  her, 
fell  to  her  knees,  cast  her  mantle  over  her  head,  shaking 
with  sobs  and  groans.  Mary  trod  proudly  toward  the  head 
of  the  stairway  leading  to  the  lower  court.  Over  her  head 
hung  a  great  bronze  candelabra.  She  knew  the  light  fell 
full  upon  her ;  she  was  sure  she  was  never  more  beautiful 
than  at  that  instant,  when  her  face  was  bloodless  as  Parian 
marble.  One  resolve  was  in  her  heart — to  let  Iftikhar 
gather  no  sweets  by  her  vain  agony  and  tears.  She  was  the 
great  Greek  princess,  with  the  blood  of  Caesars  in  her  veins, 
never  more  conscious  of  her  dignity  and  pride. 

The  weak  house  door  had  shivered.  There  was  a  heavy 
step  in  the  court  below,  a  voice  commanding  :  "  I  will  enter 
alone.  Let  the  rest  stand  guard."  Mary  saw  Iftikhar  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs;  his  gilded  mail  twinkling,  his  naked 
cimeter  in  hand,  his  black-plumed  casque  thrust  back  so 


HOW    IFTIKHAR   CEASED    FROM   TROUBLING     525 

that  the  face  was  bare.  How  splendid,  almost  how  beau- 
tiful, he  was,  striding  on  in  the  pride  of  his  power !  But 
when  he  saw  the  white  face  and  burning  eyes  of  the  Greek 
looking  down  upon  him,  even  his  wild  spirit  was  reined  for 
an  instant.  And  while  he  halted  on  the  first  stair,  Mary 
spoke,  in  tones  cold  as  the  winter  wind. 

"  You  come  as  ever,  my  Lord  Iftikhar,  unbidden,  and  with 
a  naked  sword.  Are  the  cavaliers  who  saw  your  back  at 
Antioch  hidden  in  this  house,  that  you  must  burst  in  to 
beard  them?" 

The  sting  of  her  words  was  as  salt  on  a  wound.  The 
answer  was  a  curse  upon  jinns  and  angels  who  should  stand 
between  him  and  his  prey.  His  feet  flew  up  the  stairway, 
but  the  Greek  remained  steadfast. 

"  You  see,  Cid  Iftikhar,  I  am  weak,  and  with  empty 
hands.  But  without  the  walls  is  Richard  Longsworcl,  who 
will  speak  to  you  in  my  behalf.  This  is  your  night,  my 
lord;  but  in  the  morning  —  " 

"  Leave  the  morning  to  the  rebel  jinns !  "  rang  the  Egyp- 
tian's cry.  "To-night,  to-night,  —  I  possess  you.  To-night! 
To  the  castle  with  all  speed!"  He  snatched  her  in  his 
impure  arms.  He  crushed  her  to  his  breast,  and  pressed 
on  her  cold  cheeks  burning  kisses.  Mary  neither  struggled 
nor  moaned.  What  she  said  in  her  heart  was  heard  only 
by  God.  In  his  delirium  Iftikhar  saw  neither  Morgiana 
nor  any  other.  He  leaped  down  the  stairs  three  at  a  bound, 
—  his  captive  in  his  arms. 

"  Allah  akhbar!"  went  his  shout  through  the  lower  court. 
"  I  have  won  ;  the  stars  fight  for  me.  Mine,  to  do  with  as 
I  will !  "  And  he  kissed  her  again  on  lips  and  neck.  Then 
of  a  sudden  he  stopped  motionless,  as  though  a  charmer 
had  made  him  stone,  for  outside  in  the  street  was  sound- 
ing an  angry  command  to  the  Soudanese  to  make  way  — 
the  voice  of  Musa. 

The  grasp  of  the  Egyptian  on  his  prey  never  weakened, 
though  his  weapon  was  out  once  more.  Yet  Mary,  in  his 
grasp,  for  the  first  time  began  to  struggle,  —  helpless  as 
bird  in  the  snare,  —  but  her  call  sped  out  into  the  street 
shrilly  :  "  Rescue  !  Rescue,  for  the  love  of  God!" 


526  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

For  reply  she  saw  the  Soudanese  by  the  door  dashed  to 
one  side  like  shapes  of  wood,  and  across  the  threshold 
strode  Musa,  in  no  armor,  but  his  cimeter  also  in  hand. 
A  glance,  and  the  Spaniard  knew  all.  He  took  one 
step  toward  Iftikhar,  as  if  to  cross  swords  without  passing 
a  word.  Then,  with  point  outstretched,  he  spoke,  but 
mildly,  as  if  in  grave  irony. 

"  Cid,  is  this  the  manner  of  Egyptian  emirs  in  keeping 
truce  ? "  Iftikhar's  only  response  was  to  make  his  grip  of 
Mary's  arm  so  vise-like  that  she  cried  out  with  pain. 

Musa  spoke  again,  still  gently.  "  Cid,  this  is  my  own 
house,  my  own  harem.  For  what  cause  is  it  surrounded 
by  your  negroes,  and  violated  ? " 

Iftikhar  pointed  toward  the  door  with  his  cimeter.  "  I 
made  truce  with  you,"  he  retorted  defiantly,  "not  with 
her."  And  he  glared  madly  at  the  Greek.  "Away,  or 
the  Soudanese  strike  off  your  head  !  " 

The  Spaniard  calmly  let  his  weapon  sink  to  the  pave- 
ment, and  smiled  as  he  leaned  upon  it.  "  Good  emir,  we 
have  our  hands  busy  —  as  Allah  knows  —  to  defend  El 
Kuds.  Do  we  well  to  nurse  private  lusts  and  hates,  while 
the  jewel  of  Islam  trembles  in  the  balance  ? " 

"Off!"  came  the  hot  reply.    "  Off ,  or  you  die  this  instant!" 

Musa  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  floor,  and  gave  the  Egyp- 
tian glance  for  glance.  "  I  do  well  to  tremble !  "  was  his 
answer,  the  voice  higher  now,  with  a  ring  of  harshness. 
"  I  do  well  to  tremble !  Remember  the  tourney  at  Palermo, 
my  lord  emir !  Was  it  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  who  crowned 
his  turban  with  the  prize?"  And  he  stood  on  guard  across 
the  door.  "  Remember  a  night  like  this  at  Monreale." 

The  face  of  Iftikhar  was  black  with  his  fury.  For  an 
instant  there  was  a  grating  in  his  throat,  thickening  every 
word.  "  Ya  !  Dogs  from  Nubia,  smite  this  mutineer  down! 
Hew  him  down,  or  I  hang  you  all ! " 

The  Soudanese  stared  at  him,  rolling  the  whites  of  their 
great  eyes,  but  not  a  spiked  flail  rose,  not  a  foot  crossed 
the  threshold. 

"  Are  you,  too,  rebels  ?  "  howled  the  Egyptian,  his  breath 
coming  fast. 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   CEASED    FROM   TROUBLING     527 

Musa  had  turned  to  the  fifty. 

"  Hear  you,  Moslems.  In  an  hour  like  this,  with  the 
Sacred  City  at  stake,  shall  your  emir  or  another  dip  hands 
in  a  private  quarrel?  What  do  I,  save  defend  my  own 
house,  and  my  own  harem  ?  Have  I  not  wrought  on  the 
walls  manfully  as  Iftikhar?  Dare  any  deny  it?" 

A  shout  came  from  the  Soudanese :  — 

"  You  say  well.  You  have  been  the  sword  and  shield  of 
Jerusalem,  no  less  than  the  emir !  " 

"  Hounds  of  Eblees !  Will  you  not  hew  him  down  ? " 
raged  Iftikhar. 

A  gray-headed  negro,  captain  of  the  fifty,  fell  on  his 
knees  before  the  Egyptian.  "  Cid,  command,  and  we  follow 
through  the  Christian  camp  ;  but  we  are  the  slaves  of  Kalif 
Mustaali,  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  not  yours  for  private 
feud.  We  cannot  obey." 

"  Traitors  !  "  the  veins  in  Iftikhar's  forehead  were  swollen 
now.  "  Know  that  this  is  no  slave  of  Musa,  son  of  Abdal- 
lah,  but  the  wife  of  Richard  Longsword,  a  chief  of  the 
Franks.  You  aid  the  infidels  in  saving !  "  But  the  Sou- 
danese did  not  stir. 

"  And  where  reads  Al  Koran,"  retorted  Musa,  "  '  Thou 
shalt  possess  thyself  of  thine  enemy's  wedded  wife '  ?  For 
the  sake  of  peace  and  El  Islam  leave  the  Greek  till  the 
siege  be  ended." 

"  For  the  sake  of  El  Islam  suffer  me  to  depart  with  her 
unhindered."  Iftikhar  cast  the  woman  across  his  left  arm 
as  though  a  toy,  and  swinging  his  blade,  sprang  toward  the 
portal. 

"  Make  way !  "  rang  his  last  warning. 

"Then  let  Allah  judge  the  wrong! " 

Musa  was  before  the  entrance,  his  cimeter  waving. 
Iftikhar  knew  well  he  had  no  light  combat  in  store.  He 
cast  Mary  from  him  as  he  might  a  stone,  and  sprang  to 
his  work. 

"  I  am  not  balked,  as  at  Monreale  !  "  he  hissed  from  his 
teeth. 

"  No,  Bismillah  !  I  can  kill  you  now !  "  flew  the  answer. 

The   steels  rang  sharp,   stroke  on  stroke.     Musa  was 


s 28  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

without  armor ;  but  he  had  torn  his  cloak  from  his  shoul- 
ders and  covered  his  left  arm.  The  cimeters  were  of 
equal  length,  and  every  time  they  clashed  there  flashed 
fire.  Musa  sprang  aside  from  the  doorway  at  the  first 
blow,  and  worked  his  way  into  the  middle  of  the  court, 
where  the  light  was  stronger  and  there  was  ample  space. 
This  was  no  duel  with  long  swords,  as  between  Richard 
and  Louis,  where  sledge-hammer  strength  was  victor. 
The  Spaniard's  blade  was  both  sword  and  shield.  Again 
and  again  the  Egyptian  gave  a  sweeping  stroke,  a  lunge, 
and  felt  his  "  Damascus  "  parried  by  the  turn  of  a  wrist,  or 
to  pierce  only  the  air.  Well  that  he  wore  armor !  Time 
and  again  Musa's  weapon  clashed  on  his  hauberk,  making 
the  chain  mail  ring  and  its  wearer  reel.  Click,  click,  sang 
the  blades,  and  so  the  two  fought  on. 

"Allah!"  the  Soudanese  would  cry  every  time  the 
Spaniard  seemed  ended  by  some  downright  stroke.  Yet 
he  never  bled,  but  paid  blow  for  blow.  It  was  a  marvel 
to  see  them.  What  Musa  lost  for  lack  of  arms,  was  half 
returned  in  nimbleness.  The  Egyptian  twice  staggered  in 
his  armor,  twice  recovered.  Musa  had  pricked  him  upon 
the  neck,  and  the  blood  was  running  over  the  gilded  shirt. 
But  the  fury  of  a  thousand  jinns  was  in  his  arm ;  still  he 
fought. 

Mary  stood  against  the  pillar  by  the  upper  stair,  watch- 
ing the  combat  as  if  through  a  mist.  Deeds  and  words 
had  flown  too  fast  for  catching.  She  was  nigh  asking 
herself  :  "  Why  this  stamping  ?  Why  this  ring  of  steel  ? 
What  is  this  to  me?"  She  saw  Iftikhar  shoot  his  point 
squarely  toward  the  Spaniard's  breast.  Before  the  horror 
could  be  felt,  Musa  had  doubled  like  a  snake.  The  blade 
flew  over  him.  At  his  counter-stroke  there  was  more 
blood  on  the  Egyptian's  cheek.  For  an  instant  he  winced, 
then  rushed  to  the  attack  with  redoubled  fury.  Twice 
more  around  the  court  they  fought.  And  then  there  was 
a  strange  thing :  for  Morgiana,  with  hair  flying  and  eyes 
bright  as  meteors,  sped  down  the  stairs.  One  moment  she 
stood,  as  if  terror  froze  her ;  then  with  a  fearful  moan  ran 
straight  toward  the  fighters.  "  As  Allah  lives,  you  shall 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   CEASED   FROM   TROUBLING     529 

not  slay  Iftikhar !  "  she  shrieked,  and  snatched  Musa  be- 
hind, holding  fast  by  the  girdle.  Only  for  an  instant,  for 
the  Spaniard  dashed  her  from  him  with  a  fist.  But  she 
was  back,  snatched  again,  and  clung,  despite  the  blows, 
while  all  the  time  Iftikhar  pressed  harder. 

"  Die  you,  die  we,  but  not  Iftikhar !  "  she  screamed  once 
more.  Another  twinkling,  and  the  emir  would  have  driven 
home.  But  in  that  twinkling  the  Greek  found  strength  and 
wit.  The  Mother  of  God  doubtless  sped  down  the  strength 
by  which  she  tore  loose  Morgiana's  hold.  The  Arabian 
writhed  in  her  tight  embrace ;  struggled  with  feet,  nails, 
teeth,  like  a  frenzied  tigress  at  bay.  "  Allah  !  Allah !  " 
came  her  moan;  "you  shall  not,  you  must  not,  hold  me! 
Let  us  all  die,  but  not  Iftikhar !  Not  he !  None,  none 
shall  kill  him  !  " 

Mary  trembled  at  the  horror  graven  on  Morgiana's  face ; 
but  her  arms  held  strong  as  steel. 

"  Release  !  Release  !  "  pleaded  Morgiana,  piteously  now  ; 
"  he  is  my  all,  my  all.  Not  Allah's  self  shall  kill  him  !  " 

But  Mary  shut  her  eyes  and  held  tighter.  The  Arabian 
might  smite,  bite,  tear;  she  could  not  shake  that  hold. 
Only  the  terrible  monotony  of  the  combat  seemed  unend- 
ing. Click  —  click  —  went  the  blades  ;  the  two  were  still 
fighting.  How  much  longer  could  she  hold  fast  ?  A  cry 
of  terror  from  Morgiana  made  her  fingers  weaken.  The 
Arabian  slipped  from  them  at  a  bound. 

"  Allah  !     He  reels  ! " 

Morgiana  had  flown  to  pluck  the  Spaniard's  girdle.  Too 
late !  The  Greek  saw  Iftikhar  tottering  as  the  tall  pine 
totters  at  its  fall.  And  just  as  Morgiana  touched  Musa, 
his  long  blade  swept  down  the  Egyptian's  guard,  and 
caught  the  neck  just  above  the  mail.  There  was  a  thun- 
dering shout  from  the  Soudanese.  Iftikhar  slipped,  made 
one  faint  effort  to  lift  his  point ;  slipped  once  more ;  fell 
with  clash  of  armor  ;  and  with  a  fearful  cry  his  wild  spirit 
sped  —  whither?  God  is  not  judged. 

There  was  silence, —  silence  in  which  they  heard  the  slow 
night  wind  creeping  by  in  the  street.  Iftikhar  had  stretched 
his  length.  He  lay  without  stir  or  groan.  Morgiana  had 

2  M 


530  GOD  WILLS  IT! 

recoiled  from  Musa  as  if  from  the  death  angel.  Mary  saw 
her  standing  motionless  as  the  stucco  pillar,  looking  upon 
the  face  of  the  dead..  The  Spaniard,  steaming  and  panting, 
pressed  his  red  blade  into  the  sheath,  and  caught  at  a 
pillar,  saying  never  a  word.  Then  when  the  stillness  had 
grown  long,  Morgiana  gave  a  little  cry  and  sigh,  more 
of  surprise  than  of  dread,  and  stepped  softly  until  she  stood 
close  beside  the  dead.  Iftikhar's  casque  had  fallen  from 
his  head ;  his  face  was  fixed  in  an  awful  smile ;  he  looked 
straight  upward  with  glassy  eyes  and  opened  teeth.  When 
Morgiana  gazed  down  upon  him,  she  was  still  once  more. 
Then  came  a  scream  of  agony.  She  fell  upon  her  knees ; 
she  lifted  that  motionless  head.  Though  the  blood  flowed 
from  the  great  wound  all  over  her  delicate  hands,  she  tore 
loose  the  hauberk,  and  laid  the  head  in  her  lap,  staring 
hungrily  for  some  sign. 

"  Iftikhar !  Iftikhar !  "  she  cried,  as  if  perforce  to  make 
the  deaf  ears  hear.  "  Do  you  not  see  ?  Do  you  not  know  ? 
It  is  I,  Morgiana,  your  blue-eyed  maid  of  Yemen,  who  have 
toiled  for  you,  grieved  for  you,  joyed  for  you,  —  yes,  will 
die  for  you !  Speak !  Speak  one  word,  and  say  you  are 
still  here !  " 

She  raised  her  head  as  if  to  listen  for  the  voice  that 
would  never  come. 

"  O  Iftikhar,  soul  of  my  soul,  light  of  my  eyes,  joy  of  my 
joy!  have  you  not  one  word  for  me, — for  me  who  have 
clung  fast  to  you  these  many  years  through  all  ?  Speak, 
though  it  be  but  to  curse  me !  Speak,  though  it  be  of  love 
for  the  Greek!  You  will  not,  cannot,  go  out  now  and 
leave  me  here  alone,  — alone,  alone  !  " 

No  answer.  Mary  heard  her  own  heart-beats,  the  croon- 
ing of  the  wind  in  the  streets,  the  deep  breaths  of  Musa. 

Suddenly  Morgiana  let  the  limp  head  fall,  and  leaped  to 
her  feet,  blood-stains  on  dress  and  hands  and  face. 

"  Dead  ! "  she  cried ;  "  dead  !  "  casting  toward  Mary 
a  look  so  terrible  that  the  Greek  drew  back.  "Dead! 
Gone  forever !  Forever,  forever !  "  And  Morgiana's  voice 
died  away  as  if  far  off  into  the  coming  ages.  Then  once 
more  she  fell  upon  the  dead  form,  kissed  the  speechless 


HOW   IFTIKHAR  CEASED   FROM  TROUBLING     531 

lips,  and  cooed  into  the  deaf  ear,  saying  sweet  and  pleasant 
things  as  in  the  lovers'  days  of  long  ago.  But  all  the  soft 
words  ended  in  a  cry  of  agony.  Again  she  rose  and  faced 
Musa  and  the  Greek. 

"  In -Allah's  name  be  you  cursed !  You  for  your  strength, 
and  you  for  your  beauty  !  For  the  beauty  that  stole  Ifti- 
khar  from  me,  —  that  led  him  to  ruin,  to  death,  —  cursed, 
ten  thousand  times !  May  the  jinns  of  evil  crush  you  ! 
May  all  Gehenna's  fires  wither  you  !  May  the  Most  High 
forget  you  from  His  mercy  —  "  Mary  was  sobbing  now :  — 

"  Sweet  sister,  pity  me,"  was  her  plea.  "  What  have  I 
done  ?  Forget  the  Egyptian.  How  has  he  paid  back  your 
great  love  for  him  ?  He  was  unworthy  of  such  love."  But 
Morgiana  only  tossed  her  blood-stained  arms  on  high. 

"  Fool,  fool ;  am  I  not  a  woman  ?  Did  I  love  him  by 
my  reason  ?  Worthy  or  unworthy,  I  have  loved  him. 
Enough ! " 

She  tore  at  her  bosom  ;  drew  forth  a  tiny  silver  vial.  It 
was  at  her  lips  before  Musa  could  seize  it. 

"  Poison  !  "  shouted  he. 

The  face  of  the  Arabian  turned  livid  ;  her  eyes  wandered. 
"  He  is  mine ;  mine !  Beyond  the  stars,  where  no  Chris- 
tian may  come  with  her  beauty !  Beyond  the  stars,  where 
is  Paradise  and  rest !  " 

She  fell  upon  Iftikhar's  dead  form ;  one  paroxysm,  one 
groan ;  her  hand  was  resting  on  the  emir's  face,  her  lips 
close  to  his.  Musa  laid  his  hand  above  her  heart,  drew  it 
back  and  said  nothing.  Then  again  a  long  silence,  while 
he  examined  the  silver  vial. 

"Strychnine,"  he  said  softly;  "the  Egyptians  often  use 
it.  Swifter  than  a  falling  star." 

Mary  buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  swayed  while 
she  sobbed  in  her  fathomless  grief.  "  Holy  St.  Theodore, 
have  mercy  ;  Mother  of  God,  have  mercy ;  Jesus  Christ, 
have  mercy  !  It  is  my  fault  —  mine  !  I  cannot  bear  it !  " 

"  Yours  ?  Never,  Star  of  the  Greeks,"  protested  Musa. 
"  How  was  it  you  that  led  Iftikhar  to  his  madness,  and  put 
frenzy  in  this  woman's  heart  ? " 

But  Mary  wiped  her  eyes,  and  told  all  that  had  befallen. 


532  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

How  she  had  gone  into  the  streets ;  how  Zeyneb  had  seen, 
had  told  Iftikhar,  and  sent  him  to  his  death.  Before  the 
Spaniard  could  reply,  another  strange  step  was  on  the 
threshold.  It  was  that  of  a  Nubian  in  scarlet  surcoat, 
giant  tall,  —  Ammar,  third  in  command. 

"  In  Allah's  name,"  was  his  demand  as  he  entered,  and 
recoiled  in  his  horror  at  the  sight,  "  what  means  this  rumor 
on  the  streets  ?  Where  is  the  Cid  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  ?  " 

"  His  body  ?  —  there  !  "  answered  the  Andalusian,  point- 
ing downward.  "  Allah  accounts  with  his  soul." 

" MashallaJi  /"  and  Ammar  nigh  drew  his  cimeter,  "you 
have  slain  the  emir,  commandant  of  the  city  !  " 

"  He  rushed  on  ruin,  good  comrade.  It  was  a  private 
quarrel,  and  he  is  wrong.  Ask  of  these  guardsmen,  is  it  so." 

"  It  is  so  !  Wallah,  the  emir  was  mad.  It  is  so  !  "  came 
voices  from  the  doorway.  Ammar's  face  was  lowering 
when  he  demanded  :  — 

"  Yet  how  will  you  answer  to  Al  Afdhal,  the  vizier  ? " 

Musa  drew  himself  to  full  height  haughtily. 

"  Victory  covers  all  pasts.  Let  me  fling  back  the  Chris- 
tians and  Al  Afdhal  will  forget  to  question.  If  defeated  " 
—  Musa  swept  his  hand  in  a  wide  gesture  - —  "I  will  not 
be  here  to  make  reply.  And  now  you,  O  Ammar,  are  my 
lieutenant,  and  I  commandant  this  night  of  Jerusalem. 
Leave  Iftikhar  Eddauleh  to  Allah,  and  get  you  to  the 
ramparts,  for  there  is  work  in  store."  The  clatter  of  a 
horseman  in  the  streets  cut  him  short ;  a  breathless  messen- 
ger was  entering.  "  Allah  akhbar  !  "  gasped  the  courier,  "  I 
am  from  the  Gate  of  St.  Stephen.  We  have  sallied  forth 
to  burn  the  Franks'  siege  towers.  All  the  unbelieving 
jinns  aid  them.  The  towers  are  repaired.  We  were 
driven  back  with  loss.  They  attack  at  dawn." 

"  Fellow,  fellow,"  began  Musa,  while  Ammar  dropped 
his  jaw  in  surprise,  "no  tales,  as  you  love  your  head! 
With  my  own  eyes  I  saw  those  towers  in  ruins  —  they 
can  never  be  fought  again." 

"  In  Allah's  great  name  I  do  not  lie,"  flew  back  the 
answer;  "and  the  Christians  have  just  flung  the  corpse  of 
an  Egyptian  inside  the  city  on  a  mangonel,  with  letters 


HOW   IFTIKHAR   CEASED    FROM   TROUBLING     533 

saying  they  send  us  the  courier  from  Al  Afdhal,  who 
promises  aid,  but  that  they  will  be  in  Jerusalem  ere  he 
can  set  forth  from  Egypt." 

The  Spaniard  cast  about  a  lightning  glance  of  high 
command  ;  never  was  Iftikhar  more  lordly.  "  Then  for 
El  Islam  we  shall  win  glory  or  martyrdom  by  another 
sun.  Lead  to  the  walls,  Cid  Ammar,  I  follow  instantly. 
Call  all  the  city-folk  to  repair  the  breach.  Hurry  the 
Greek  fire  and  oil  caldrons  from  the  citadel.  We  must 
each  have  a  thousand  hands  betwixt  now  and  morning. 
But  on  your  lives  say  nothing  of  Iftikhar." 

"  Allah  !  Allah  !  Death  to  the  Franks  !  Death  !  " 
roared  the  Soudanese,  vanishing  down  the  dark  street 
as  suddenly  as  they  had  come.  But  Ammar  halted. 
"  Cid,"  said  he,  gravely,  "  you  are  indeed  commandant, 
but  if  the  news  flies  out  at  this  last  grapple  that  Iftikhar 
lies  dead,  needless  to  tell  how  every  sword-hand  will 
weaken.  The  name  of  Iftikhar  is  worth  a  thousand  in 
the  death-grip.  What  is  to  be  done  ? "  Musa  had  bent 
over  the  corpses,  and  was  unbuckling  the  Egyptian's 
gilded  armor. 

"  See,"  declared  he,  holding  up  the  gem-set  baldric,  "  I 
will  put  on  the  emir's  mail.  I  have  his  height ;  none  will 
miss  his  shoulders.  With  the  casque  drawn  down,  all  but 
those  in  the  secret  will  know  nothing.  I  can  again  put  on 
my  own  sombre  armor,  and  appear  elsewhere  on  the  wall. 
The  host  will  think  they  have  both  commanders.  Ere  the 
truth  is  known  the  city  is  saved." 

"  Allah  !    You  have  the  craft  of  Solomon  !     So  be  it !  " 

"  Breathe  not  a  word  of  this  to  any.  Bid  the  Soudanese 
keep  silence.  Deny  the  rumor.  Haste  five  spare  mangonels 
over  to  the  west  wall ;  nine  to  the  northern.  Illumine  the 
Franks  with  Greek  fire,  shoot  arrows  and  stones  incessantly. 
I  will  be  on  the  Stork  Tower  at  the  northwest  bastion 
without  delay  ;  do  you  look  to  the  western  city." 

Ammar  salaamed ;  was  gone.  Musa  had  finished  strip- 
ping and  putting  on  Iftikhar's  armor.  Save  for  the  plumed 
helm  that  he  held  in  his  hand,  who  could  say  he  was  not 
the  Egyptian  ? 


534 


GOD   WILLS   IT 


"  Take  these  corpses  away,"  was  his  command  to  the 
eunuchs ;  "  anoint  and  embalm  them  carefully.  They 
must  have  honorable  burial."  Then  he  turned  to  Mary. 

"  Star  of  the  Greeks,  I  must  go  upon  the  walls  again. 
Hard  indeed  it  is  to  leave  you.  But  be  comforted,  Richard 
is  well.  I  have  talked  with  him.  Our  speech  was  all  of 
you." 

Mary  was  ready  to  weep  once  more,  but  held  back  the 
tears.  Sweet  and  strong  was  her  face  when  she  answered :  — 

"  Dear  Musa,  I  know  all  that  lies  at  stake  this  night  and 
coming  day.     I  can  bear  much.     I  am  ready  for  whatever 
God  may  send.      Once  I  called  you  my  own  cavalier  at 
Palermo.     Be  such  still.     May  the  God  who  loves  us  all  — 
Christian,  Moslem  —  be  with  you  and  Richard  Longsword." 

She  took  the  helmet  from  his  arms.  He  knelt ;  with 
her  own  hands  she  fitted  it  after  he  had  caught  her  hands, 
and  kissed  each  one.  Then  he  rose,  clothed  head  to  foot 
in  the  gilded  mail. 

"  God  go  with  you,  my  cavalier,"  said  the  Greek.  "  I  may 
not  say,  'send  victory.'  Farewell." 

The  stately  plumes  swept  the  pavement  when  the  Span- 
iard salaamed.  "Fear  nothing,  lady,"  was  all  he  replied; 
"remember  the  arm  of  the  Most  High  is  under  all.  His 
will  over  all.  What  is  to  us  most  ill,  is  to  Him  most  good. 
Farewell." 

He  bowed  again, — vanished  from  the  doorway,  —  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  black  night.  Mary  heard  him  mount ; 
heard  his  horse's  hoofs  dim  away  in  the  distance.  All  the 
slow  wind  brought  was  a  far-off  murmur  and  rumble  of 
many  toilers  on  the  walls.  And  Mary  went  up  the  stair- 
case to  seek  her  chamber  and  to  pray. 


CHAPTER   XLVII 

HOW   TRENCHEFER    WAS    BROKEN 

AGAIN  high  noon.  The  Syrian  sun  beat  pitilessly,  but 
Richard  and  his  peers  thought  little  of  sun  or  star  that 
Friday  as  they  toiled  on  the  levers  and  ropes  of  the  great 
beffroi,  the  siege  tower  of  Godfrey.  From  daybreak  they 
had  been  urging  the  ponderous  fabric  across  rock  and 
ravine,  though  its  three  tall  stories  of  rough-hewn  timber 
quaked  and  tottered  on  the  rollers,  though  its  facing  of 
undressed  hides  had  turned  a  hundred  blazing  arrows. 
Half  the  day  they  had  wrought,  while  their  crossbowmen 
vainly  strove  to  quench  the  showers  of  missiles  the  Nubians 
rained  upon  them.  Now,  with  the  tower  five  hundred  feet 
from  its  goal,  lo !  all  the  sally-ports  and  the  broad  gates  of 
Herod  and  of  St.  Stephen  were  flung  wide,  and  forth  sal- 
lied the  garrison,  —  ebon  devils  whose  only  whiteness  was 
their  teeth. 

"  At  them,  Christians  !  Forward,  in  Our  Lady's  name !  " 
rang  the  cry  of  Duke  Godfrey.  Then  all  around  the  tower 
had  surged  the  battle,  the  infidels  calling  "  Fire !  "  and  the 
Christians  struggling  to  save  it ;  but  in  the  end  the  Mos- 
lems were  flung  back,  thinned  and  saddened  by  Frankish 
bolts  and  blades.  Richard,  in  one  moment  of  the  succeed- 
ing calm,  breathed  a  prayer  of  praise  to  Heaven,  "  Gloria  ! 
Gloria!  At  last !  At  last!"  for  he  knew  that  the  final 
hour  was  drawing  nigh.  And  in  the  lead  of  the  Nubians, 
and  last  of  them  to  turn  back,  had  he  not  seen  that  figure 
in  gilded  mail  he  had  singled  for  his  vengeance  ?  At 
the  thought  of  that  vengeance  even  the  vision  of  Mary 
grew  dim,  and  the  weight  of  his  own  sins  was  forgotten. 
Therefore  of  all  the  mad  spirits,  that  day  of  glory  and  of 

535 


536  GOD  WILLS   IT! 

wrath,  none  was  madder  than  he,  and  none  strained  the 
pulleys  harder. 

Four  hundred  feet  still  to  cover ;  four  hundred  leagues 
seemingly  were  traversed  easier !  For  while  the  great 
tower  lumbered  on,  groaning  as  a  dragon  at  his  death,  the 
unbelievers  set  new  engines  on  the  walls  and  smote  the 
Christians,  even  as  God  smote  Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  After 
the  arrow  hail  came  the  catapult  darts  of  two  ells  long,  and 
stones  of  a  man's  own  weight  blew  down  as  snow  from  the 
housetops.  After  the  darts  and  the  stones  came  things 
more  terrible  —  glass  vessels  spitting  fire ;  whereupon  all 
the  ground  had  turned  to  flame,  and  from  the  tower  rose 
smoke  and  the  crashing  of  timbers. 

"  Greek  fire  !  Hell  loosened  !  Save  who  can  !  "  went  up 
the  wail  of  the  Christians.  But  the  great  Bouillon,  tread- 
ing amid  the  flames  as  through  a  gentle  rain,  called  above 
the  din  :  "  Christ  is  still  with  us !  Forward  in  His  Name !  " 
Then  all  courage  returned.  They  brought  vinegar  and 
quenched  the  burning  earth.  The  beffroi  shook  off  the  fire 
and  crept  onward. 

Three  hundred  feet  now  !  The  tower  was  swayed  each 
instant  by  the  shock  of  the  Moslem  enginery  —  darts, 
stones,  fire ;  it  withstood  them  all.  Around  the  gilded 
crucifix,  fixed  high  above  the  summit,  a  thousand  screech- 
ing arrows  of  the  infidels  had  sped.  It  stood  unscathed 
against  the  calm  blue  sky,  as  amid  a  realm  of  eternal  peace ; 
and  the  Christians,  looking  upon  the  image  of  their  Lord, 
rejoiced  and  pressed  forward. 

Then  again  the  sally-ports  were  opened ;  a  second  sortie 
more  furious  than  the  last.  This  time  the  champion  in 
gilded  mail  laid  about  him  among  the  Christians  as  if 
Satan's  self  were  raging  against  God's  saints.  Richard 
pressed  hard  toward  him  to  cross  swords ;  but  the  strife 
held  them  asunder.  Gaston  of  Beam  measured  strength 
with  the  arch-infidel,  and  all  the  Franks  groaned  when 
they  saw  the  Viscount  fall.  But  his  vassals  sprang  over 
him,  and  locked  their  shields  around  him,  making  the 
Moslem  champion  give  back.  Godfrey,  who  was  cast  with 
Richard  for  a  moment,  asked,  "  And  is  this  not  Iftikhar 


HOW   TRENCHEFER   WAS   BROKEN  537 

Eddauleh  ?"  The  answer  was  a  nod  of  the  head,  but  he 
heard  behind  the  closed  helm  which  Longsword,  contrary 
to  wont,  was  wearing,  the  words  muttered,  "  Father,  mother, 
sister,  brother,"  and  knew  the  Egyptian  would  need  all  his 
might  that  day. 

So  for  a  second  time  they  fought,  and  for  a  second  time, 
though  two  Moslems  sallied  forth  to  one  of  the  Christians, 
the  defence  found  Prankish  steel  too  keen.  Their  chief 
strove  to  rally  them,  but  in  vain.  Only  his  sweeping  blows 
thrust  back  the  hardy  knights,  who  followed  the  unbelievers 
to  the  very  drawbridge.  The  gates  clanged  in  the  face  of 
the  assault,  and  again  from  battlement  and  flanking  tower 
pelted  the  storm  of  death.  But  the  beffroi  still  crept 
on. 

Two  hundred  feet.  Tower  and  wall  were  so  close  that 
the  Christian  bowmen  on  the  summit  could  begin  to  shed 
a  counter  rain  of  missiles  upon  the  infidels  to  quench  that 
dashing  from  their  enginery.  Richard,  toiling  at  the  lever, 
saw  a  man-at-arms,  who  was  working  a  catapult,  fall, 
stricken  through  by  a  heavy  bolt.  The  Egyptians  raised 
a  yell  of  triumph  from  the  walls ;  the  machine  stood  use- 
less. Instantly  out  of  the  press  around  the  tower  rushed 
a  priest  —  Sebastian  !  no  armor  save  the  holy  armor  of  his 
white  stole.  The  paynim  shafts  buzzed  over  him  ;  to  flies 
he  would  have  paid  greater  heed.  Richard  saw  the  man 
of  fasting  and  prayer  lay  the  great  arrow,  draw  home  the 
huge  bow,  press  the  lever.  There  was  a  howl  of  rage  on 
the  walls,  —  the  tall  Ammar  had  fallen  under  the  shaft. 
Richard  ran  to  the  priest's  side. 

"  Back,  father  !  "  shouted  he,  "  you  rush  on  death  ! " 

The  priest  left  his  toil  to  kneel  beside  a  stricken  bow- 
man. None  save  the  dying  heard  his  voice  ;  but  he  pointed 
to  the  glittering  Christ  on  the  sky-raised  crucifix.  There 
was  a  smile  on  the  face  when  Sebastian  laid  the  head  of 
the  dead  gently  down.  The  priest  looked  Richard  calmly 
in  the  eye,  though  an  arrow  flew  between  them  while  he 
spoke. 

"  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business,"  was  all  he  said. 
Without  more  words  he  was  back  at  the  catapult,  bending, 


S38  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

levelling,  shooting  more  than  one  infidel  at  every  bolt. 
High  above  the  clangor  swelled  his  voice  at  each  triumph. 
"  Die,  Canaanite !  die,  Amorite  !  Thou  art  my  battle-axe 
and  weapons  of  war !  With  thee  will  I  break  in  pieces 
the  nations  !  I  will  break  in  pieces  captains  and  rulers !  " 

Richard  knew  he  was  in  God's  hands  and  left  him.  The 
Christian  enginery  was  at  last  beginning  to  tell.  Under 
their  missiles  he  saw  the  battlements  crumbling;  dared 
he  hope  he  saw  the  firm  curtain-wall  totter  ?  Richard 
knew  it  was  long  past  noon.  When  last  had  he  touched 
food  or  drink  or  tasted  sleep  ?  But  when  he  thought  of 
the  deeds  to  be  done  ere  sunset,  and  saw  that  figure  in 
gilded  mail  upon  the  walls,  he  dwelt  no  more  on  thirst  or 
slumber. 

One  hundred  feet;  every  finger's  length  bought  with 
ten  lives,  but  the  price  was  not  in  vain.  Men  were  be- 
ginning to  count  the  moments  before  they  could  set  foot 
on  the  rampart.  Yet  at  this  point  a  terrible  rumor  flew 
through  the  army.  "  The  vinegar  fails  !  We  cannot  master 
the  fire  !  "  And  as  if  bad  news  was  borne  by  the  fleeting 
winds,  the  Moslems  instantly  rained  down  more  flame-pots, 
then  still  more,  when  nothing  quenched  them.  In  a  twin- 
kling the  rock  below  the  walls  seemed  burning,  the  rawhide 
facing  of  the  tower  scorched,  a  great  cry  of  agony  rose 
heavenward  from  the  Franks. 

"  The  devil  fights  against  us  !  "  howled  many.  But,  as 
before,  the  word  of  Godfrey  was  better  than  ten  thousand 
fresh  sword-hands.  "  Stand  by !  Christ  is  greater  than 
the  devil !  "  he  commanded.  And  Renard  of  Toul  cried, 
"  Forward,  cavaliers;  now  is  the  time  to  die! "  But  Godfrey 
answered  him,  "  Now  is  the  time  in  Christ's  strength  to 
live."  When  the  news  came  that  Raymond's  and  Tancred's 
attacks  had  failed,  his  only  shout  was,  "  Praised  then  be 
St.  Michael,  for  to  us  is  left  the  victory  !  " 

Then  it  was  the  Franks  bore  witness  to  their  faith ; 
for  even  the  Moslems  trembled  when  they  saw  those 
terrible  knights  of  the  West  standing  amid  the  hail  of 
darts,  while  the  firm  soil  belched  flame,  the  tower  was 
wrapped  in  smoke, — beating  the  fires  with  their  swords, 


HOW  TRENCHEFER  WAS  BROKEN  539 

casting  on  earth  with  their  hands,  wrestling  at  the  levers, 
though  the  levers  themselves  were  burning,  and  still  forc- 
ing the  beffroi  onward,  onward  ! 

For  men  were  past  hoping,  fearing,  suffering,  now.  In 
the  sweet  delirium  their  lives  went  out  without  a  pang, 
though  their  bodies  were  flaming.  And  the  last  sight  of 
the  dying  was  the  great  crucifix  and  the  Christ  thereon, 
emblem  of  sacrifice  before  which  lesser  sacrifice  was 
counted  nothing.  Not  a  Christian  engine  was  working ; 
the  most  were  fast  turning  to  ashes.  But  the  tower,  while 
it  blazed,  toiled  forward.  The  burning  grass  at  Antioch 
had  been  nothing  beside  this  valley  of  death  ;  but  the  wall 
was  becoming  very  near.  For  the  thousandth  time  Richard 
was  straining  at  his  lever,  when  Godfrey  came  to  him. 

"  All  is  lost,  De  St.  Julien  !  "  came  the  hoarse  whisper. 

"Lost?  And  why  lost,  my  lord?"  said  Richard,  with 
a  dreadful  calmness. 

"  Hist !  Look  on  the  ground  before  ;  it  slopes  downward 
to  the  moat.  The  engineers  have  blundered.  When  the 
tower  is  tilted  its  crest  will  be  below  the  battlement;  we 
cannot  mount  upon  the  wall." 

Richard  stared  upward  through  the  smoke. 

"  We  can  beat  down  the  battlement ;  it  is  yielding." 

"Are  you  St.  George?"  cried  the  Duke;  "every  man- 
gonel burns." 

Longsword  pointed  to  the  left.  "  All  burning  save  one !  " 
his  answer.  There  was  one  mangonel  so  close  under  the 
walls  that  when  all  its  crew  were  shot  dead  no  others  had 
ventured  to  man  it. 

"  As  Christ  died,"  came  from  Godfrey,  "  put  that  at  the 
foot  of  the  walls ;  find  a  breach  in  ten  credos  or  the  fire 
triumphs." 

The  men  of  St.  Julien  followed  their  seigneur.  At  last 
they  knew  they  should  fulfil  their  vow.  The  garrison, 
when  it  saw  them,  turned  on  their  company  all  manner  of 
fire  and  death.  But  the  Auvergners  who  lived  never 
counted  their  dead.  By  main  force  they  tugged  the  man- 
gonel up  beside  the  beffroi,  trampled  out  the  flame  for  an 
instant.  A  flying  stone  shivered  Longsword's  shield ; 


540  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

Herbert  thrust  his  own  on  Richard's  arm,  a  plain  shield 
with  only  the  red  cross  of  the  Crusade.  De  Carnac  fell 
while  they  set  the  rock  of  half  a  mule's  weight  in  place ; 
their  seigneur  pressed  up  the  huge  counterpoise ;  drew 
the  rope.  The  long  arm  swept  creaking  into  the  air ; 
every  war-cry  died  while  the  huge  missile  sped.  The  rock 
smote  the  battlement  where  the  first  attacks  had  weakened 
it.  The  upper  face  of  the  curtain  wall  crumbled  inward. 
Out  of  the  wreck  a  murk  of  dust  was  rising.  For  fifty 
feet  the  battlement  had  been  beaten  down  far  lower  than 
was  the  summit  of  the  tower. 

"  Forward  again !  For  the  love  of  Christ !  Forward !  " 
Godfrey's  voice;  and  it  swelled  into  the  sound  of  ocean 
waves  as  ten  thousand  throats  reechoed  it.  The  Moslems 
were  uplifting  a  howl  of  wild  despair.  Did  they  fight  men 
or  sheytans,  whose  home  was  flame  ?  But  Richard  saw 
the  champion  of  the  gilded  mail  still  on  the  ramparts.  The 
tower  was  now  springing  toward  the  wall  as  if  a  spirit  of 
life  had  entered,  so  many  were  the  eager  hands.  The 
infidel  fires  were  spent.  The  Christian  bowmen  were  shoot- 
ing so  pitilessly,  not  an  Egyptian  catapult  was  working. 
Up  the  dizzy  ladder  on  the  rear  face  of  the  tower  Long- 
sword  clambered  in  spite  of  armor.  The  drawbridge  at  the 
crest  the  stones  had  long  since  dashed  to  flinders ;  what 
matter  ?  For  Heaven  suffered  two  long  beams  from  one 
of  the  defenders'  engines  to  fall  outward.  The  Crusaders 
caught  them,  laid  them  side  by  side,  —  a  bridge  with  width  of 
half  an  ell,  —  a  dizzy  height  below,  but  beyond,  Jerusalem  ! 

Men  tell  that  it  was  the  end  of  the  third  hour  of  that 
Friday  afternoon,  —  at  the  very  moment  Jesus  Christ 
cried,  on  the  Cross,  "It  is  finished!" — that  the  tower  of 
Godfrey  was  brought  beside  the  walls ;  and  the  cavaliers, 
who  had  faced  death  so  many  times  that  day,  gathered 
on  its  summit,  to  enter  the  Holy  City.  To  right  and  left 
the  walls  had  been  swept  bare  of  defenders  by  the  bowmen. 
The  cry  passed  that  a  warrior  in  arms  of  white  stood  on 
the  Mount  of  Olives,  waving  his  shield  to  urge  on  God's 
soldiers,  —  St.  George,  patron  of  holy  victory.  But  though 


HOW   TREiNCHEFER   WAS   BROKEN  541 

the  other  Moslems  were  fled  away,  there  was  one  who  re- 
mained steadfast.  As  Longsword  gained  the  crest  of  the 
tower,  he  saw  at  the  head  of  the  narrow  bridge  that  figure 
in  gilded  mail,  with  sword  bared,  helmet  closed,  twenty 
Christian  bolts  glancing  off  his  panoply  while  he  awaited 
the  first  to  cross.  And  every  Prankish  voice  cried,  "  Ifti- 
khar,  emir  of  Jerusalem  !  " 

Already  upon  the  crest  were  standing  the  great  Duke 
himself  and  Renard  of  Toul,  Baldwin  du  Bourg,  and  many 
more.  Yet  for  an  instant  none  started  —  for  it  seemed 
tempting  God  to  tread  that  bridge  with  fifty  feet  to 
the  rock-hewn  moat  below,  then  meet  the  thrust  of  that 
cimeter.  At  Godfrey's  call  the  bowmen  threw  over  the 
Moslem  a  cloud  of  arrows ;  but  the  gilded  mail  was  proof. 
Still  he  stood,  —  then  with  the  courtliest  flourish  to  his 
foes,  drew  back  three  steps  from  the  head  of  the  perilous 
bridge,  leaving  a  foothold  for  his  challenger.  Again  he 
stood  guard,  and  all  the  Christians  shouted,  "A  gallant 
knight,  though  infidel ! "  while  the  Duke  bade  the  bow- 
men spare  him ;  so  notable  a  cavalier  must  die  at  a  cava- 
lier's own  hands.  There  was  an  eager  rush  of  those  who 
would  cross  first,  and  smite  the  first  blow,  —  Longsword 
eagerest  of  all.  But  a  stranger  knight  leaped  before  him. 
The  Frank  sped  over  the  dizzy  path ;  stood  upon  the 
shattered  wall.  Once  the  swords  met ;  but  at  the  second 
blow  the  Christian  dashed  backward  into  the  empty  air  — 
they  heard  the  clang  of  his  armor  in  the  moat  below. 

"  My  prey !  "  pleaded  Richard.  But  to  his  bitter  wrath 
again,  De  Valmont  had  leaped  before  him,  crossed  the 
bridge,  and  all  men  kept  silent  while  the  Auvergner  put 
forth  all  might  and  skill.  Then  of  a  sudden  they  saw  the 
Moslem's  thin  blade  lash  under  Louis's  heavy  weapon, 
smite  full  upon  the  side,  and  De  Valmont  went  backward 
also.  As  he  tumbled,  a  projecting  beam  broke  his  fall. 
In  the  moat  they  saw  his  stirrings,  and  cried  out,  "  Still 
alive!"  Men  sought  him,  exclaiming,  "Miracle!"  But 
a  great  awe  had  come  on  the  Christians.  Who  was  this 
that  could  smite  Sir  Louis  at  ten  passes  ?  Godfrey  thrust 
himself  forward. 


542  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

"  Make  way,  fair  knights  !  I,  myself,  will  meet  this 
paladin ! "  But  Richard  held  him,  as  he  touched  the 
bridge. 

"  This  is  my  own  foe,  my  lord  ;  your  promise  !  " 

Godfrey  turned,  and  Richard  shook  the  lightnings  out 
of  Trenchefer,  as  he  ran  across  the  narrow  way.     With 
him  went  a  great  prayer  half  uttered  by  the  whole  host,  — 
"  Dominns  tecum  !  "  as  every  man  saw  him  standing  with 
his  feet  on  the  brink  of  death,  his  face  toward  the  infidel. 

Richard  showed  naught  but  calmness.  He  trod  the  peril- 
ous path  quickly  as  though  he  sought  his  bride.  Trenchefer 
felt  light  as  a  rush  to  his  strong  right  arm.  The  wall,  the 
moat,  the  death  below,  he  never  saw ;  his  eyes  were  only 
for  that  gilded  mail  —  the  mail  of  If tikhar.  This  was  the 
moment  for  which  he  had  wept,  had  prayed  !  Behind  that 
hated  armor  he  saw  forms  never  again  to  be  met  on  earth 
—  mother,  father,  sister,  brother.  He  thought  of  the  pains 
of  his  wife,  and  his  own  long  sorrow.  He  was  proud  of 
the  splendor,  the  valor,  of  the  Moslem,  —  the  greater  glory 
in  the  victory.  God  had  indeed  willed  that  he  should  hew 
the  last  of  the  way  to  Jerusalem. 

Scarce  had  he  taken  stand  on  the  shattered  parapet  before 
the  infidel  was  paying  him  blow  for  blow.  At  the  third 
fence  Longsword  knew  he  had  met  his  match,  for  no  mean 
cavalier  with  a  cimeter's  light  blade  could  turn  a  down- 
right stroke  of  Trenchefer.  At  the  fourth  Richard  took 
one  step  back  —  another  would  have  sent  him  beyond 
love  and  hate.  But  his  rage  rose  in  him ;  at  the  fifth  the 
infidel  gave  way.  A  great  stillness  was  around ;  the  sun 
was  sinking  in  unclouded  brightness ;  the  Egyptians,  cow- 
ering behind  their  battlements,  bated  their  prayers  to  Allah 
as  they  gazed ;  the  Christians  forgot  to  invoke  Our  Lady. 
Richard,  finding  that  a  few  smith's  blows  were  profitless, 
fell  to  a  slow  and  steady  foil  and  fence ;  putting  forth  all 
his  art,  and  every  pass  and  feint  that  had  never  failed 
before.  But  he  marvelled  as  he  fought,  seeing  his  subtlest 
strokes  turned  by  that  thin  blade,  which  he  deemed  to  have 
brushed  away  in  a  twinkling.  'Had  he  never  before  fenced 
with  that  cunning  hand  ?  The  Moslem's  shield  now 


"THE   INFIDEL   GAVE   WAY" 


HOW  TRENCHEFER   WAS   BROKEN  543 

shattered ;  Longsword  swept  his  blade  low  and  parried ; 
in  a  flash  the  other  passed  his  cimeter  from  right  hand  to 
left,  and  the  weapon  dashed  full  upon  the  Norman's 
shoulder,  ere  he  could  raise  Trenchefer.  But  the  Valencia 
"  ring-mail "  -  Musa's  gift —  was  yet  proof.  Ere  the  Mos- 
lem could  strike  twice,  Richard  recovered,  cast  away  his 
own  shield,  and  pressed  closer. 

At  a  sweeping  stroke  of  Trenchefer  he  slipped,  and  all 
the  Franks  moaned.  But  the  infidel  —  gallant  as  his  foe 
—  did  not  press  home  the  chance.  Richard  stood  again, 
and  struck  as  never  before.  "  Paladins  both  !  "  rang  from 
the  Christians.  Now  at  last  men  knew  Longsword  fought 
for  life,  not  for  vengeance  only.  Again  the  Franks  began 
to  tremble. 

"  The  Egyptians  rally ;  new  companies  mount  the  walls  !  " 
thundered  Duke  Godfrey ;  "  beat  them  back  or  all  is  lost! " 

The  crossbowmen  stood  to  their  task  like  good  men 
and  true.  They  swept  away  the  Nubians  clustering  on 
the  battlements,  but  others  swarmed  after.  A  moment 
more,  and  not  one  but  a  hundred  blades  would  close  the 
perilous  bridge. 

"  Across  with  a  rush ;  sweep  the  champion  down ! " 
cried  many  Christians.  But  the  great  Duke  answered, 
"  Either  in  knightly  fashion  or  not  at  all,  let  us  take  Jeru- 
salem." His  word  was  scarce  spoken  before  one  vast 
shout  made  the  tower  rock  with  the  quaking  earth,  "  Gloria 
tibi,  Do  mine  !  "  Trenchefer  had  sprung  aloft ;  the  cimeter 
flew  to  parry ;  the  Norman's  blade  turned  flatwise,  but  no 
mortal  arm  could  have  borne  up  against  that  stroke.  The 
Christian  drove  home  upon  the  shoulder,  beating  in  the 
armor,  though  he  might  not  pierce.  The  Moslem's  weapon 
flew  from  his  hand ;  he  staggered,  fell  upon  the  walls,  while 
past  him  and  his  victor  leaped  the  exulting  Franks. 

Richard  stood  erect,  but  panting,  while  the  brothers 
Lethalde  and  Engelbert  of  Tournai  leaped  upon  the  upper 
battlement,  and  with  them  Baldwin  du  Bourg  and  Reim- 
bault  Creton,  mighty  cavaliers  all.  A  cry  went  up  that 
would  drown  every  other  din  that  day  of  strife,  "  God  wills 
it  /"  flung  to  the  bending  heavens.  The  Egyptians  upon 


544 


GOD   WILLS   IT! 


the  walls  fought  at  bay  —  how  vainly  !  Richard  knew  the 
great  day  had  come;  the  Holy  City  was  won,  his  arch  foe 
smitten  ;  the  journey,  the  agony,  the  pouring  of  the  wine 
of  life,  had  not  been  vain.  God  had  remembered  the  toils 
of  His  people.  Then,  as  he  looked,  he  saw  Sebastian  in 
his  white  robe,  leaping  across  the  bridge.  But  just  as  his 
foot  touched  the  crumbled  wall,  a  chance  arrow  from  some 
despairing  Nubian  caught  him  fairly  on  the  breast.  He 
fell,  the  white  stole  fast  turning  red.  Richard  caught  him 
in  his  arms. 

"  Father,"  he  pleaded,  "  dearest  father,  you  will  not  die ; 
see,  the  victory  !  " 

Sebastian's  lips  were  moving.  Richard  bent  low  —  a 
woman's  name,  "  Philippa."  "  Philippa  ?  "  the  name  of  the 
priest's  boy  love  ?  Who  might  say  ?  But  at  this  instant 
Sebastian  started  from  Richard's  arms,  and  pointed  up- 
ward. "Look!"  and  Longsword  beheld  Godfrey  setting 
the  great  crucifix  from  the  tower  upright  upon  the  battle- 
ment of  the  Holy  City.  Sebastian's  face  glowed  with  an 
awful  smile.  He  had  seen  it,  Gregory's  vision  —  the  Cross 
triumphant  on  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 

"  Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant  depart  in  peace,"  came 
the  thin  voice,  "  according  to  Thy  word,  for  mine  eyes  have 
seen  —  "  but  the  rest  was  heard  by  the  angels  about  the 
Throne. 

Richard  gently  lowered  the  head,  stood,  and  stared 
about.  Already  the  slaughter  was  begun  on  the  walls  and 
in  the  streets.  From  the  Gate  of  St.  Stephen  thundered 
the  battle-axes  of  Tancred  and  his  host,  whose  strength 
swelled  with  the  victory.  Two  thoughts  were  foremost  in 
Longsword's  mind,  —  "  Mary  ;  the  Spaniard."  He  had 
not  seen  Musa  on  the  walls.  What  had  befallen  ?  They 
were  crying,  "  No  quarter,  slay  !  "  He  must  act  quickly. 
Suddenly  his  eye  passed  from  Sebastian  to  the  form  of  his 
victim.  Holy  Mother !  the  infidel  stirred,  —  he  was  not 
dead !  The  casque  was  slipping  back  from  the  Moslem's 
face.  The  wounded  man  half  raised  himself,  put  forth  a 
hand,  and  pushed  away  the  helmet.  Not  for  ten  kingdoms 
would  Richard  have  looked  upon  that  face ;  but  he  could 


545 

not  turn  away.  And  when  the  casque  fell,  Longsword 
beheld  the  face  of  Musa,  son  of  Abdallah. 

Those  passing  across  the  bridge  heard  a  cry  of  pain  that 
followed  them  to  their  dying  bed.  They  saw  Richard 
Longsword  uplift  Trenchefer  with  both  his  arms,  and  dash 
it  upon  the  rock.  Midway  the  great  blade  of  the  Vikings 
-snapped  asunder,  and  almost  with  a  mortal  groan. 

"  Dear  God,"  called  Richard,  "  is  it  thus  at  last  the  price 
of  Gilbert's  blood  is  paid !  " 

Then  they  beheld  that  man,  who  had  wrestled  with  fire 
and  death  from  dawn,  cast  his  own  helmet  away,  snatch 
the  infidel  in  his  arms,  soothing  and  whispering  like  a 
woman,  while  his  tears  ran  freely,  as  those  of  a  little  child. 


2N 


CHAPTER   XLVIII 

HOW    RICHARD    SAW   THE    SUN    RISE 

How  the  Holy  City  was  sacked  by  the  men  of  the  West; 
how  the  infidels  paid  for  unbelief  and  blasphemy  with  their 
own  blood ;  how  the  blood  in  the  porch  of  the  mosque  of 
Omar  plashed  up  to  the  bridles  of  the  horses, — these  things 
this  book  will  not  tell.  For  its  story  is  of  the  deeds  of 
men  —  not  of  demons,  as  their  foes  cried  —  nor  of  avenging 
angels,  as  their  own  hearts  boasted.  Neither  is  there  need 
to  tell  how  Zeyneb's  life  went  out  under  a  Prankish  sword, 
nor  how  Herbert  and  Theroulde  found  Mary  at  the  house 
by  the  Gate  of  Herod.  It  was  theirs  to  save  her  from 
death  or  worse,  at  the  hands  of  the  raging  victors,  who 
deemed  all  in  the  city  Moslem,  that  night  of  rapine  and  sin. 
Through  Saint  Stephen's  gate  they  brought  her  forth,  while 
in  Sion,  the  upper  city,  the  last  Egyptians  yet  stood  at  bay, 
and  Tancred  and  Raymond  were  leading  to  the  final 
slaughter.  Mary  said  not  a  word,  while  the  St.  Julieners 
led  her  through  the  sack  and  ruin,  and  through  a  thousand 
scenes  at  which  her  pure  heart  sickened.  But  when  they 
had  passed  the  wrecked  portal,  and  the  hill  of  Olivet  lay 
before  them,  clothed  in  the  gold  and  purple  of  the  evening 
light,  she  said  softly  to  Herbert :  "  And  is  my  dear  Lord 
Richard  well  ?  "  For  though  they  had  said  as  much  at 
first,  yet  their  looks  were  so  grave  she  was  ill  at  ease. 
Then  Herbert  answered,  "  Blessed  be  St.  Michael,  sweet 
lady,  he  is  well,  though  death  plucked  at  him  a  hundred 
times."  Then  Mary  asked  —  half  guessing  the  reply - 
"And  know  you  anything  of  his  friend,  the  Spaniard 
Musa  ? "  But  the  veteran  glanced  at  Theroulde,  and 

546 


HOW    RICHARD   SAW  THE   SUN    RISE  547 

the  jongleur  answered :  "  Dearest  mistress,  he  lies  sorely 
wounded  in  our  baron's  tent  —  grief  to  tell,  though  he  is 
Moslem  !  "  Then  the  Greek  bowed  her  head,  and  with  no 
more  speech  they  led  her  to  the  camp.  At  the  tent  door 
Richard  came  to  meet  her,  treading  softly,  and  neither 
spoke  when  he  clasped  her  to  his  breast.  He  led  her 
within  where  Musa  was  lying  upon  a  pallet  of  mantles  and 
saddle-cloths.  Mary  knelt  beside  him,  touched  him.  He 
did  not  speak  or  move,  though  still  alive. 

"  He  will  die  ?  "  she  whispered,  raising  her  eyes. 

"  He  will  die,"  answered  her  husband,  very  softly.  "  His 
armor  is  not  pierced,  but  all  his  shoulder  has  been  beaten 
down.  Not  all  the  physicians  of  his  Cordova  may  heal." 
Then  he  took  Mary  by  the  hand,  and  they  sat  beside  the 
bed.  In  whispers  he  told  of  all  that  had  befallen  that  day, 
and  learned  from  her  how  it  befell  that  Musa  wore  the 
armor  of  Iftikhar.  And  Mary  bowed  her  head  once  more, 
saying  it  was  her  own  blind  folly  that  sent  Musa  to  his 
fate.  But  Richard  stroked  her  tenderly,  though  his  own 
heart  was  over  full ;  then  made  her  lie  down,  promising  to 
waken  her  if  the  Spaniard  came  to  himself.  So  a  little 
past  midnight  Richard  touched  her,  and  she  saw  that  the 
tent  was  lighted  by  lamps  brought  from  the  city,  and  there 
were  silken  cushions  under  Musa's  head.  The  Andalusian 
was  speaking. 

"  The  Star  of  the  Greeks  ?     Is  she  here  ?  " 

"  I  am  here,  Musa,  dear  brother  of  my  husband ! "  said 
the  lady,  at  his  side.  "  Speak,  and  say  you  will  master 
death  as  you  mastered  Iftikhar  Eddauleh ;  that  you  will 
forgive  this  rash  disobedience  of  mine  which  brought  you 
all  this  woe!  " 

Musa's  face  wore  one  of  its  old,  soft,  melancholy 
smiles. 

"  Ah !  Rose  of  Byzantium,"  said  he,  half  whimsically, 
"  do  you  think  I  am  so  great  I  can  hurl  back  doom  ?  I 
grow  too  proud  with  the  praise.  Forgive  you  ?  Forgive 
what  —  that  you  loved  Richard  Longsword,  and  wished  to 
know  it  was  well  with  him  ?  No  more  of  that.  I  forgive, 
if  aught  needs  forgiving.  As  for  dying,  as  well  to  be  sped 


548  GOD   WILLS   IT! 

by  Trenchefer  as  by  any  blade.  It  was  written  by  Allah 
upon  the  canopy  of  the  stars,  and  Allah  does  all  things 
well." 

"  Ah,  would  God  I  could  die  in  your  stead,  my  brother, 
my  brother,"  began  Richard,  while  those  terrible  tears  out 
of  manliest  grief  would  come. 

"  And  the  Star  of  the  Greeks,  what  says  she  ? "  began 
Musa,  again  smiling.  But  he  checked,  when  he  saw  the 
gust  of  sorrow  sweeping  across  Mary's  face.  Then  in  a 
darker  tone,  he  added,  "  No  more  of  this,  as  you  love  me ; 
no  more,  as  I  love  you  —  love  you  both."  His  gaze  was 
not  on  Richard,  but  on  his  wife.  And  the  woman's  heart 
first  caught  the  strange  stress  of  his  voice  and  the  light  in 
his  dimming  eyes. 

"  Love  me?"  her  words  with  a  start. 

Musa  half  raised  his  head  from  the  pillows. 

"Why  shall  I  not  say  it  now?"  came  the  reply,  almost 
proudly.  "  Loved  you  ?  I  have  ever  loved  you,  truly  as 
ever  man  loved,  from  the  hour  I  saw  your  face,  and 
heard  your  voice,  when  we  plucked  you  from  the  Berbers." 
Then  to  Richard,  "  Dear  brother,  feel  in  my  breast." 
And  the  Norman  drew  forth  a  soiled  and  folded  bit  of 
scarlet  ribbon.  "  Do  you  remember,  Star  of  the  Greeks, 
the  day  you  gave  me  this  —  when  I  held  the  lists  against 
Iftikhar  at  Palermo  ?  It  has  been  at  my  lips  each  night 
since  before  I  fell  asleep.  For  I  have  loved  you  —  have 
loved  you  —  long."  The  words  came  very  slowly  now,  for 
the  flood  of  life  was  ebbing  fast.  But  the  Norman  broke 
out:  — 

"  Dear  God,  and  all  these  years,  my  brother,  you  have  not 
breathed  this !  I  made  mockery  of  your  monkish  state, 
and  you  smiled  on,  doing  all  to  bring  us  two  together  and 
to  give  us  joy !  " 

"Assuredly,  can  the  outlaw  kite  make  a  nest  for  the 
lark  ?  Had  I  loved  her  as  little  as  Iftikhar  loved  her,  I 
would  have  served  brute  passion  alone ;  have  made  my 
love  only  of  her  beauty  and  her  kisses.  But  I  knew  while 
she  knelt  to  your  Christ  and  I  to  my  Allah,  we  could  never 
love  soul  with  soul.  Therefore  my  joy  was  this,  to  see  her 


HOW   RICHARD   SAW   THE   SUN    RISE  549 

grow  more  beautiful  as  your  bride,  brother  that  you  are, 
though  not  in  blood." 

"  And  was  it  so  easy  to  do  all  this  that  I  never  dreamed  it  ? 
that  I  marvelled  to  myself,  '  Why  is  Musa  so  devoted,  yet 
so  true  to  Richard,  my  husband?'"  asked  Mary,  with 
quivering  lips.  The  breath  of  the  Spaniard  was  coming 
still  more  slowly,  but  he  answered,  smiling :  "  After  I  had 
you  utterly  in  my  power  —  after  the  parting  at  Antioch  — 
I  swore  a  great  oath  I  would  never,  save  when  dying,  con- 
fess I  saw  you  as  other  than  a  sister  while  Richard  lived. 
It  was  hard  ;  I  was  tempted ;  often  the  power  of  Eblees 
and  his  jinns  was  strong.  But  I  fought  them  away 
with  Allah's  might.  I  have  mastered,  I  have  kept  my 
vow.  She  is  yours  again,  my  brother,  your  own  pure 
wife." 

"Holy  Mother,"  cried  Mary,  in  her  pain,  "had  I  known 
this  three  days  since,  how  would  God  have  tortured  me ! 
God  knows,  while  I  never  had  an  untrue  thought  touching 
Richard," -  —  and  she  looked  fairly  upon  her  husband, — 
"yet,  Christian  or  Moslem,  had  Musa  said  the  word,  how 
would  my  breast  have  been  torn !  " 

"  Yes,  and  no  shame,"  the  Norman  was  interrupting, 
"  for  what  I  marvel  at  is  this,  —  how  you  and  Musa  could 
look  upon  each  other's  face  one  day,  and  yet  keep  love 
for  me." 

But  Musa  whispered :  "  Leave  the  secret  to  Allah,  Most 
High.  I  am  near  the  ending  now.  You  of  the  West  have 
conquered.  You  have  indeed  wrung  victory  from  very 
doom,  your  vow  is  cleared.  The  next  Genoese  ship  bears 
you  homeward  to  St.  Julien,  to  the  castle  and  the  moun- 
tains of  fair  Auvergne.  You  will  not  forget,  under  that 
sweet  French  sky,  the  Spaniard,  whose  body  lies  beneath 
the  dust  of  that  Jerusalem  he  died  to  save,  though  all  in 
vain  ? " 

"Till  they  chant  my  death  mass  —  never!"  whispered 
Richard ;  but  Mary  made  no  reply.  "  It  is  a  long  way 
from  El  Knds"  Musa's  pallid  lips  ran  on,  "to  the  orange 
groves  and  shining  vegas,  by  the  Guadalquiver  and  the 
Darro.  But  the  pathway  to  the  throne  of  Allah  can  be 


550  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

trodden  while  an  arrow  flies.  Do  not  believe  the  priests, 
my  brother,  nor  the  imams  of  Islam,  who  say,  '  only  Chris- 
tian,' 'only  Moslem,'  can  meet  before  the  Most  High's 
face.  Whether  your  Christ  were  Son  of  the  Eternal  or 
earth-sprung  prophet,  I  know  not.  If  to  be  true  Christian 
is  to  wear  the  pure  heart  of  Mary  de  St.  Julien,  then  in 
truth  the  son  of  Mary  the  Virgin  was  the  son  of  the  All- 
Merciful.  But  this  is  hid.  We  shall  meet  —  you,  and  you, 
and  I  — in  some  blessed  spot  where  the  word  is  '  love,'  not 
'war.'  "  His  breath  failed  him  ;  Mary  took  his  head  upon 
her  lap  and  stroked  his  temples  with  her  soft,  white  hands. 
Richard  did  not  speak.  Presently  the  Spaniard  spoke 
again,  a  whisper,  as  of  the  far  retreating  wind  :  — 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  faithful  to  my  love,  —  my  brother, 
—  my  promise." 

Mary  glanced  toward  Richard,  and  he  nodded  gently. 
She  bent  over  Musa  and  kissed  him  twice  upon  the  lips. 
A  smile  broke  upon  the  Spaniard's  face.  There  came  a 
faint  sigh  and  a  folding  of  the  hands,  as  if  to  rest.  Mary 
raised  her  head. 

"  He  is  not  here,"  she  whispered  ;  and  Richard  answered 
softly,  "  Sweet  wife,  that  was  the  fairest  deed  of  all  your 
life." 

Just  as  the  dawn  was  glowing,  Richard  stood  before  his 
tent  on  Olivet,  and  at  his  side  Mary  de  St.  Julien,  his  wife. 
It  was  very  still,  peaceful  as  a  summer  Sabbath  of  La 
Haye  in  far  Provence.  They  clasped  hands  as  they  lis- 
tened to  a  distant  chant  and  singing.  The  priests  were 
raising  the  matin  hymn  from  the  rock  of  Sion,  where 
infidel  muezzins  had  called  on  the  single  Allah  for  so  many 
sinful  years.  They  saw  the  east  change  from  crimson  to 
red  fire,  the  redness  brighten  to  golden  flame ;  then  all  the 
ridge  of  Moab  glowed  in  light,  as  on  that  morning  when 
the  host  first  stood  before  Jerusalem.  The  last  mists  crept 
from  the  hills  —  thin  blue  clouds  that  faded  away  in  the 
burning  azure.  And  last  of  all  the  sun  mounted  upward 
slowly,  his  glory  trailing  far,  as  though  reluctant  for  his 
daily  race.  They  saw  coming  from  the  city  a  company  of 


HOW    RICHARD   SAW   THE   SUN    RISE  551 

priests,  white-stoled,  and  bearing  in  their  midst  a  bier, 
Sebastian  going  to  that  rest  which  shall  know  waking  only 
at  God's  last  trumpet. 

"Let  us  pray,"  said  Mary,  gently,  "for  the  souls  of  all 
the  brave  men  and  true  who  have  died.  Let  us  pray  for 
the  soul  of  Musa." 

So  they  knelt,  while  the  chant  of  the  priests  drew  ever 
nearer.  When  they  rose,  the  disk  of  fire  had  leaped  above 
the  topmost  peak,  and  was  touching  each  dome,  each  battle- 
ment, of  the  Holy  City  with  living  light.  They  saw  the 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  the  Rock  of  Calvary.  The 
slow  breeze  crept  through  the  scattered  olive  trees  that 
crowned  the  Mount  of  the  Agony.  It  was  silent,  —  for  a 
moment  the  priests  had  ceased  chanting,  and  the  sun  went 
on  his  upward  way,  shedding  over  Mary's  face  an  aureole 
as  of  gold.  Richard  put  his  arm  about  his  wife,  and  looked 
deep  into  her  eyes.  And  in  those  eyes  he  saw  a  strength, 
a  love,  a  sweetness,  not  there  that  first  hour  they  sped  mad- 
ness through  his  frame,  when  he  curbed  in  Rollo  with  half- 
boyish  might. 

"  Mary,"  said  he,  softly,  in  his  Norman  French,  "my  own 
true  lady  wife,  it  is  five  years  since  we  first  looked  on  each 
other  —  long  years.  But  there  are  many  left,  please  God. 
Will  you  go  back  to  France  with  me,  that  by  your  aid 
and  prayers  I  may  prove  a  just  lord  to  the  lands  of  St. 
Julien  ? " 

"  I  will  go  to  the  earth's  ends  with  you,  dear  lord  and 
husband,"  said  she ;  and  she  also  spoke  in  French.  Then 
she  pressed  him  closer.  "  Ah,  sweet  life,  the  night  is  sped  ; 
the  sun  fast  rises.  All  the  past  is  gone — Musa,  Sebas- 
tian, Iftikhar,  Morgiana,  —  and  we  —  we  only  —  are  left  to 
each  other.  I  will  forget  I  was  born  a  Greek.  I  will 
speak  your  own  sweet  French,  and  be  your  loving  wife  ; 
and  we  shall  grow  old  together,  ever  loving  one  another, 
and  the  dear  God  more.  And  Musa—  "  but  Richard  had 
his  word :  — 

"  We  will  bear  his  name  upon  our  hearts  ;  and  if  so  be 
I  am  suffered  to  stand  before  the  throne  of  light,  there 
will  my  brother  be  also.  For  on  the  earth  there  did  not 


552  GOD   WILLS  IT! 

tread  a  soul  more  loved  by  God  "  —  he  hesitated  —  "  and 
the  Lord  Christ,  than  he." 

Then  he  kissed  Mary  once  more,  holding  her  head  back 
in  his  strong  arms,  that  the  brightness  might  transfigure  all 
her  beauty.  The  procession  of  priests  was  very  near,  its 
leader,  Raymond  of  Agiles.  The  two  knelt  once  more, 
that  they  might  receive  the  good  priests'  blessing  and  prof- 
fer new  prayers  for  the  sainted  dead.  And  while  they 
knelt,  the  company  burst  forth  into  singing,  until  the  rock 
of  Olivet  gave  back  the  sound  :  — 

"  Laud  and  honor  to  the  Father  ! 
Laud  and  honor  to  the  Son  ! 
Laud  and  honor  to  the  Spirit ! 
Ever  Three  and  ever  One  ; 
Con-substantial,  co-eternal, 
While  unending  ages  run  !  " 


A  FRIEND  OF  CAESAR 


i2mo.     Cloth.     $1.50 


"  As  a  story  .  .  .  there  can  be  no  question  of  its  success  .  .  .  while  the 
beautiful  love  of  Cornelia  and  Drusus  lies  at  the  sound  sweet  heart  of  the 
story,  to  say  so  is  to  give  a  most  meagre  idea  of  the  large  sustained  interest 
of  the  whole.  .  .  .  There  are  many  incidents  so  vivid,  so  brilliant,  that  they 
fix  themselves  in  the  memory."  —  NANCY  HUSTON  BANKS  in  The  Bookman. 

"  Full  of  beautiful  pictures  and  noble  characters." 

—  The  Public  Ledger,  Phila. 

"  Mr.  Davis  has  done  his  work  with  a  seriousness  and  dignity  that  indi- 
cate remarkable  maturity  of  mind  and  of  purpose.  The  plot  of  his  story  is 
stirring,  as  a  portrayal  of  the  times  when  Julius  Caesar  was  rising  into  power 
could  hardly  fail  to  make  it ;  but  the  characters  have  not  been  allowed  to 
degenerate  into  mere  puppets  for  carrying  on  the  vigorous  action.  The 
author's  conception  of  well-known  historical  characters  is  extremely  inter- 
esting. It  is  no  less  delightful  than  surprising  to  be  given  a  glimpse  of  the 
good  side  of  the  many-sided  Cleopatra.  The  greatest  praise  that  is  due  to 
Mr.  Davis,  however,  is  for  his  skilful  management  of  the  historical  setting 
of  his  book.  He  is  evidently  at  home  in  the  times  of  which  he  writes.  Every 
detail  is  characteristic,  yet  his  story  is  not  forced  to  yield  place  to  disserta- 
tions upon  Roman  history  and  antiquities.  He  has  succeeded  in  a  remark- 
able degree  in  making  that  ancient  world  live,  and  in  bringing  it  into  close, 
vital  relations  with  our  own  times."  —  Smith  College  Monthly. 


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